


I Hate Luv Storys

by annubkb, shutupkitkat



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bollywood, Bollywood, Cheese, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, M/M, Romance, Sappy, much cheese
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-03-03
Packaged: 2018-09-21 06:52:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 29,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9536741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annubkb/pseuds/annubkb, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupkitkat/pseuds/shutupkitkat
Summary: AU based off the Bollywood movie I Hate Luv Storys, where Tim is an overly-romantic art director, and Jason is a cynical director’s assistant, working under the Romance King of Hollywood - Bruce Wayne.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So this was just sorta a stupid idea we had one day while watching the movie I Hate Luv Storys, and yes, we know it's ridiculous, but it's also super great sooooooo. Disclaimer: neither of us know jack shit about Conner Kent (besides Young Justice!Conner) so his characterization is probably terrible and if you're a Conner fan we are super sorry. He was our scapegoat. We had to mow someone over to get this love story, and he fit best. RIP Conner Kent. 
> 
> For the full experience of this fic, go watch the Bollywood movie. It's terrible and amazing. The songs are great.

_Jason_ :

I’m not a big fan of this whole...love...business. I don’t get how some people spend their entire lives with one person. I already know that I’m not gonna waste my life by falling in love. Love is just bullshit manufactured by corporations trying to segregate the market.

Take romantic movies, for example. Every love story has the same story. First the hero tries to run away from love, doesn’t believe in love, and then...

God, I hate love stories.

 _Tim_ :

But me, I _love_ love stories. I love everything about them: the passion, the intensity, the way they make you believe in something bigger than any one person. I love them so much, I make the sets for them - I’m an art director. I set the stage, and then the magic happens. And that moment in a movie, when the leads’ eyes meet and you know it’s meant to be - that’s what I love the most.

 _Jason_ :

You know what I hate the most about love stories? The delusions people get from them.

Take my director, Bruce. He developed this delusion that I’ve been holding out on him, that I have “hidden talents”.

In other words...

Bruce. Is making me. Sing. For the soundtrack.

“Cut, cut, cut!” he snaps, cutting me off. “Emotions! I want emotions!” I try my hardest not to roll my eyes but I’m pretty sure I’m only partially successful because I can feel my face twist into something skeptical or annoyed or maybe even just plain done with this shit.

Stupid. These love stories are stupid. But you know, even more stupid than the stories are the people who make them and today I top that list. I’m a stupid director’s assistant who’s fucking _singing_ something so that he can--

“ _Feel_. I want to _feel_ it.”

Ugh. How can people make such stupid films? They don’t even exist. Love stories like this aren’t even real. They’re just stories.

 _Tim_ :

Love stories aren’t just _stories_ to me. I know they exist, because I’m in one. My Mr. Right is Conner, and the moment I met him I knew he was perfect. He is sweet and kind and amazing, and everyone loves him almost as much as I do. I’m pretty sure everyone’s just waiting for us to get married. _Especially_ my parents.

 _Jason_ :

Marriage… no, none of that shit for me. I’m not that kind of guy. At all. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a happy couple. No, what I really love is dating. I date all kinds of people. Guys, girls, other genders… people who love me, people who hate me, people who’ve got the right attitude and do everything except love me. And that’s the way I like it. Marriage is overrated and my life is great without it - _because_ I’m without it.

 _Tim_ :

Everything about my life was as amazing as I could ever hope for. There had been just one thing I had always dreamed of: working with Bruce Wayne, _the_ director of all the best love stories. And when I got the call that day, it felt like everything was slipping just into place.

 _Jason_ :

Okay, leave Timmers and listen to me instead. In my life, there’s another major character: Roy. Technically he’s my senior at the office, but more importantly, he’s my best friend. Roy is the villain of a love story: the guy who breaks their hearts. There have been many, many times where we’ve had to literally run away from someone who was after him for something he said or did. I’ve rescued him from so many bad breakups and fights that I’ve lost track of just how many people have threatened him with bodily harm. He’s a villain, but he’s _just_ charming enough to be the kind everyone ends up liking anyway. Like Spike from Buffy.

Speaking of villains, the _real_ villain of my life is Bruce motherfucking Wayne. His middle name is actually Thomas or something but my version fits better.

Bruce is a really big filmmaker. Big hits, big stars, big budgets, whatever, whatever. But these aren’t my kind of films. Working with him is torture. I’m only here for two reasons: my resume and my bar tab. Anyway, Bruce sent me to watch some old fart’s performance in the latest rom com, something about casting issues. Actually, he _knew_ how I felt about these movies and sent me anyway.

Perverse sadist.

But I didn’t know my life would change that day.

* * *

Jason Todd walked into the movie theater, already dreading the next couple of hours. The theater was full of saps who were not only willing but _eager_ to spend their money and time on a cheesy romantic movie. And then there was him. Steeling himself, he glanced around for an open seat and spotted one on the right side of the theater.

In that moment, in later years, Jason would reluctantly admit he felt as though he’d stepped into one of the romance movies he so despised. Time slowed down as the person standing next to the empty seat turned, scanning the theater. He was gorgeous, sharp blue eyes, a chiseled jaw, and even from this distance, Jason could tell he was almost ridiculously fit for someone so small. Jason neared that row and halted in his tracks as he saw who was between him and the gorgeous guy.

“Okay, everyone, feet up!” said the man in the aisle seat. No less than six children lifted their feet onto their seats, making room for Jason to squeeze through. He snorted and scuttled through the row to the empty seat. His heart was thumping against his chest and he felt...jittery.

_What the fuck is happening?_

“Hi, I’m Jason,” he said, in what he hoped was a suave tone. “What’s your name?” The guy started and gave him a polite smile, but said nothing. “...Your name?” Jason prodded.

“Tim,” he said curtly.

 _How are you this gorgeous?_ _Wait, no, be cool, be cool._

“So, uh, do you like romance movies, Tim?”

“I do, yeah,” said Tim, as though it should be obvious.

“Wow, really? But do you actually… _believe_ all that bullshit?”

Tim stiffened. “‘Bullshit’?”

“Yeah, like, true love, a perfect romance, all those stupid tropes,” said Jason.

“For your information, I do,” snapped Tim. “As a matter of fact, I _have_ a perfect romance myself.”

Jason made a noise of disgust. “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.”

Tim scowled. “Look, the movie’s about to start. If you’re not interested in watching you can just leave.”

_C’mon, Jason, it’s still the previews, say something sweet! Something charming! Before the movie starts. C’mon, you can do it._

“Chill, it’s still the previews. Besides, I can’t go. Have you heard of Bruce Wayne?” Jason asked.

“Of course! He’s my favorite director.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “He would be. Anyway, he sent me here to watch this stupid movie. I swear to god, he’s crazy. He must’ve been dropped as a baby, I don’t know why else he’d spend his entire life making these stupid love stories.”

“Which people love,” Tim pointed out.

“Yeah, well, everyone’s crazy. Why do they love this crap so much? Okay, take this movie for example. It’s about childhood sweethearts, right? Does that shit even happen?”

“It happened with us,” Tim snapped. Jason was pretty sure he had a miniature heart attack right then and there.

“ _Us_?”

“Yeah, Conner and I,” he said. Jason honestly wasn’t sure if he was being made fun of or not, so he resolved to keep quiet from that point on.

“I think you need help. What adult actually believes in these stories? Oh, you must believe in ghosts too, right? They make lots of movies about ghosts.”

Tim stared at him venomously for a split second, then stood and shoved past him. After a shocked pause, Jason raced after him.

“Hey, Tim, c’mon, why are you getting so angry, I was just messing around.” Tim ignored him. “Listen, Tim, seriously, I can’t watch such a boring movie alone. I need your company. _Please_?”

“Look,” said Tim, finally turning around and acknowledging Jason. “Best of luck.” It was possibly the least sincere thing Jason had ever heard out of anyone’s mouth.

He made a face at Tim’s back as he left.

 _I won’t watch a movie without you, yeah fucking right._ _Whatever._

And that was the world’s shortest love story.


	2. It's A Saga

Bruce’s newest movie was a “different” kind of love story.

“So Lily’s leaving forever, and she’s walking to the plane. We cut to James, who’s running after her. He’s realized that he can’t live without her, and he doesn’t want her to leave.”

Jason fought the urge to laugh, but all the others at the table were either holding back tears or openly crying. One such person was Roy. Jason rolled his eyes and passed him a tissue.

“He fights past the security guard and screams ‘Lily!’”

Everyone in the room besides Jason was literally on the edge of their seats, waiting to hear how it would end.

“She turns back and their eyes meet, and he gives her a grand speech about how he knows they’re meant to be together forever. Her heart melts and she runs back to him, and they kiss.”

_Every love story is the same. Same costumes, same sets, same actors, everything is the same. They change the themes a little and say_

“Our film is different!” Bruce exclaimed. Jason snorted quietly. “It won’t be shot in New York or Paris or London. _We_ will shoot in New Zealand.”

Everyone let out a melodramatic gasp, as though this was the most brilliant, ingenious, shocking notion they’d ever heard.

“Wow,” Roy muttered, looking awed. Jason shot him a scowl. His best friend always fucked up his relationships, mostly on purpose, but he was a romantic at heart.

“This,” said Bruce intensely, startling Jason into looking at him, “is not just a love story. It’s a _saga_.”

An honest to god cheer went up around the room as everyone stood to applaud Bruce. Jason followed suit a split second behind the rest of them. Bruce smiled slightly, looking satisfied. That concluded the meeting, and Jason was following his coworkers out the door when Bruce called him back.

“Sir?”

“Tell me, Jason. You didn’t like my film, right?”

“No, Bruce, I thought it was--”

“Shut up,” Bruce interjected calmly, and Jason’s mouth snapped shut. “I’m sure you think I’m dumb, crazy, and make the same old films over and over again. But you know what? I know that. But there’s just one thing you don’t know… My films have _magic_ , magic which the audience connects with, which you’ll understand, someday. Okay?”

“Bruce, I really--”

“Shut up,” Bruce said again, as Alfred entered. Jason didn’t know what Alfred’s official title was; he wasn’t sure anyone knew Alfred’s official job, but he did know that Alfred kept Bruce’s whole production running, and Bruce refused to work without him.

“Bruce, Kori is in charge of costumes, but we need someone else for props, should I ask--”

“Jason,” Bruce said. Alfred fell silent with only a raise of one eyebrow to indicate his confusion.

“What?” Jason asked stupidly. Bruce shot him the smallest of smirks.

“From today on, Jason will be in charge of props.”

“Bruce, I--”

“You don’t understand my world, right, Jason? So from now on you’ll work with my art director, understand?” Bruce sat in his chair and looked up at Jason, as though waiting for a dramatic entrance.

 _Jason_ : So you remember how I had told you not to listen to dear Timmy? Well now you’ll have to, because standing in front of me was someone who could only have been placed there by that _bitch_ : fate.

“What the f-?” Jason cut himself off. Walking through the door was none other than the hot guy from the movie yesterday: _Tim_.

“Hi, Bruce!” said Tim brightly, before turning to Jason. His smile faltered.

“Ah, Tim, hello,” said Bruce. “This is--”

“Jason. We’ve met,” Tim said coolly. “He was at the movies yesterday.”

“Oh, that reminds me,” said Bruce. “Did you _actually_ watch that movie?” He sounded inordinately pleased with the idea of Jason sitting through that crappy romance movie. Too bad Jason hadn’t sat through it.

He winced internally. “Um… of course,” he said.

“He had a _lot_ of good things to say, too,” said Tim with a sharp, fake smile.

“Really? Did you like it that much?” asked Bruce.

“Oh, not about the movie, about you!” said Tim. “He had a very interesting theory about how you must’ve been dropped on your head when you were a baby.”

“Is that so?,” said Bruce, slowly turning his chair to face Jason.

“I--no! I was--talking about me!” said Jason. He inwardly cursed Tim and his evil, hot face.

“Oh, really?” Bruce asked slowly, skeptically.

“It’s a really long, boring story, I’m sure you don’t wanna hear it, bye!” Jason practically ran out of Bruce’s office.

_Shit._

Jason slunk into Roy’s office to mope, where his best friend decided the appropriate method of response was a chart. He even had rulers.

“Roy, what the hell is this?” Jason said exasperatedly. Roy was scribbling intensely on a whiteboard.

“It’s a graph,” said Roy. “Look, however much attitude someone has, they gotta be at least that hot too. To make up for it. Now consider Tim. He’s about this hot, but his entire personality is attitude.” He drew a little x on the graph. “It’s a complete loss.”

Jason squinted at the graph. “Okay, c’mon, he’s a little hotter than _that_ ,” he said.

“Does it matter? If he keeps hating you this much you’ll be out on your ass soon.”

“...Thanks,” Jason said dryly.

“Here, just egg him on your way out,” Roy chirped, pulling an egg out of his pocket. Jason gaped at him.

“Roy, why the fuck do you have an egg in your pocket?” Roy didn’t respond, just held it out toward Jason, egging him on. Jason stared at him for a moment, seriously debating taking it, when they both spotted Tim walking down the hall outside, glancing in their direction, and Roy quickly hid the egg, trying to act casual. Tim didn’t seem to notice, and as soon as he was past, Roy offered the egg up again.

Jason glared at his friend, deciding he wouldn’t resort to such crazy measures. Yet. He followed Tim down the hall to his office, so he could get his assignments from him.

“Ah, Tim, this is Jason Todd,” Alfred said as Jason walked in. “I’ll leave you two to get acquainted.” Alfred left then, apparently done with whatever he’d come in to do.

“You’re gonna complain about me to Bruce, right?” Jason said immediately, eager to get the first word in. “Fine, but let me just say, that’s a cheap shot, and--”

“Listen, Jason,” Tim interrupted, icy. “You were an asshole yesterday, and I didn’t say anything then. But don’t forget that in _this_ office, I’m your senior. You will behave yourself, you will not argue with anyone, and you will do exactly what I tell you to do.”

Jason stared, caught off guard by the outburst.

“Now, get me the production plans,” said Tim. Confused, waiting for the other shoe to drop, Jason just stared at him. “ _Now_ ,” Tim snapped.

Jason wordlessly turned to leave.

“Oh, and Jason?” said Tim. “Best of luck. Again.”

_What just happened? Man, Tim might be hot, but he’s so…_

* * *

“Stupid! He’s so stupid!” Tim grabbed plates from the cupboard and slammed it shut emphatically. “This is such a good job, such a great set-up and he doesn’t care about _any_ of it!” Conner took the plates from him and set them on the table, looking concerned.

“Darling,” he started, but the doorbell rang and Tim stalked off to answer it. “C’mon, leave this Jason guy at the office. Why are you spoiling your mood over him?”

Tim sighed, not sure he could explain to Conner just how much Jason got under his skin. Or why. But when he opened the door, it was to none other than Jason himself and Tim felt all the meager calm he’d gathered leave him instantaneously.

“Hi,” Jason said, with a slightly asymmetrical smile that suited his stupid face. Tim scoffed and turned back to Conner.

“I _tried_ leaving him in the office.” Conner raised his eyebrows, glancing at Jason and looking confused. Tim turned back, only to have a gift basket shoved in his face.

“Here,” Jason said, looking around Tim to Conner. “Bruce sent this. Welcome gift.”

Touched, Tim started to say “How sweet!” but Jason shoved past him and walked up to Conner, as though he’d been invited in, and offered his hand.

“Hey. I’m Jason.”

“Hi, Jason, I’m Conner Kent.” Tim rushed to put the gift basket down and stand with Conner. It might take their combined strength to keep Jason from being throttled where he stood by Tim. As it was, Tim couldn’t help glaring at Jason when their gazes met, silently imagining throttling him in lieu of actually doing it. Jason seemed to pick up on the vibe, though, because the cocky smile slid off his face.

“Uh, you should try the wine,” Jason said, clearly attempting to small talk. “It’s really good, I packed it myself.” Tim was planning on just glaring at him until he left, but Conner didn’t have a mean bone in his body, so he missed the memo and actually replied.

“Sorry, man, but I don’t drink on weekdays. And today Tim and I made lobsters, so I’m saving room for that.”

Jason turned to Tim. “Then, Tim, _you_ should try it.”

“I don’t drink on weekdays either,” he replied, pasting a saccharine smile on his face. Jason grinned at him suddenly, mockingly.

“Wow, a match made in heaven,” he said. Tim returned to his glare and Jason returned to Conner. “So, Conner, what do you do?”

“My family has a farm that I run,” Conner said, still behaving far too amicably for Tim’s liking.

“Wow, a farm?” Jason asked interestedly. Tim was sure he could still hear an undertone of sarcasm. “Tractors, barns, fields, and all that? That’s _super_ cool.”

Conner gave a pleased smile. “Thanks. Why don’t you join us for dinner?”

“Uh, no thanks. I  _do_ drink on weekdays,” Jason said with a condescending smile.

“Anyways, we want some privacy,” Tim butted in.

“Oh,” Jason said. Then, “ _Oh_.” He grinned suggestively at the both of them. “Oh, sorry.” He turned, finally, to leave.

“Oh, no--” Conner started but Jason cut him off.

“Hey, dude, listen,” he said. Conner looked at him expectantly. “ _Nice_ shirt. Red. Nice red.” Tim scowled at him, knowing he couldn’t possibly mean it sincerely. But Conner glanced down at his red button-up, then gave Jason another pleased smile.

“Thanks,” he said cheerfully. Tim, astounded that Conner hadn’t picked up on Jason’s rudeness, scowled even harder. As Jason left, shutting the door behind him, he turned his glare on Conner.

He waited.

“What? He’s sweet, the poor thing! He seemed okay,” Conner said. Tim scoffed. “What?”

Tim rolled his eyes and went back to check on the lobsters.

“What? Tim?” Conner called after him. Tim ignored him. The lobsters were ready.

By the time they sat down, Tim had regained some of his chill. And the food helped. Still, he wanted to disavow Conner of the notion that Jason was anything but a _goddamn menace._

“The lobsters turned out well,” he said. It was a good thing Conner could cook, because Tim sure as hell couldn’t.

“So did the rice, darling,” Conner replied sweetly. Tim laughed.

“Conner, I just boiled it.”

“Well, you boiled it excellently,” Conner insisted. Tim laughed again, rolling his eyes affectionately. Maybe Conner hadn’t picked up on Jason’s complete douchebaggery, but Tim knew it was because Conner couldn’t conceive of anyone actually being that way. In fact, Tim was pretty sure Conner didn’t actually understand the concept of being mean intentionally.

Still, it was his duty to make sure his boyfriend wasn’t letting someone insult him just because the insults were going over his head.

“I can’t believe you were ready to let Jason crash our dinner,” he said, expecting he’d have to work up to actually telling Conner that Jason was horrible. Conner needed a long time to develop a negative opinion. He was much quicker to develop a good one.

“Well, he brought you a gift basket!”

“He _delivered_ a gift basket. It was _from_ Bruce.”

“He said he packed the wine,” Conner pointed out.

“Sure,” Tim admitted. “But it’s still from Bruce. I bet he had to threaten Jason to get him to do anything useful at all.”

“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?”

“Conner, remember that guy from the movie theater? The one who wouldn’t shut up and kept harassing me until I literally left the movie to get away from him?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, that was Jason,” Tim said, certain he’d won the argument. Conner looked surprised, and a bit thoughtful. Tim took a smug bite of his lobster.

“Maybe the movies were just an off day, darling. Has he been like that since?”

Tim could not believe Conner was still defending Jason. He knew that Conner didn’t like to think badly of people, but really? He wouldn’t even take Tim’s side on _this_?

“Conner, of course he’s been like that since.”

“Darling, I love you, but you tend to stick to your first impressions a little more than you should. He really seemed okay to me.”

If Conner could read Tim’s mind, he so would not have said that.

“He was just _pretending_ to be nice, Conner!”

Conner sighed. “Okay, I’m sure you’re right. You know him better.” Tim almost got angrier, because Conner was clearly humoring him. But it was a dinner Conner had spent a lot of time on, and Tim didn’t want to fight, so he let it go. Temporarily. He took few more bites of food to calm himself, as food always did.

“Other than Jason, though, work is so amazing, Conner. I only really had my tour and introductions today, but oh my god. It’s… it’s everything I ever dreamed of.”

“That’s good,” Conner said between bites. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

“It’s so surreal. I’m working with Bruce Wayne!”

“The Romance King of Hollywood,” Conner agreed, quoting something Tim had said when he was first applying for the position. But he sounded less enthusiastic than Tim hoped - less enthusiastic than he would normally be - which Tim took as a sign that Conner was still disappointed in Tim for judging Jason so harshly.

“Any news from the Kents?” Tim tried. Conner loved his family more than anything. Understandable, because the Kents were the sweetest people on the planet.

“Nah, nothing new. Ma wants us over there for Thanksgiving, though, if that’s okay,” he said.

“Yeah, of course, I’d love to. No one turns down Ma Kent’s Thanksgiving dinner.”

Conner smiled, and the rest of the dinner passed uneventfully, with the exception of an escaping claw.

In bed, after Tim finished preparing for his first real day at his dream job, he stared up at the ceiling thoughtfully.

 _Everyone seems to like Jason well enough_. _Even Conner thought that jerk was sweet… Was I overreacting?_

* * * 

“Tim! Tim, wait up!”

Tim resisted the urge to ignore the familiar voice and keep walking. “Hi,” he said shortly, slowing so Jason could catch up.

“Tim, hey,” Jason said brightly. “I was thinking about you all night, you know? You look really pretty in the night.”

Tim stared, incredulous at his nerve.

“Chill, I was joking!” Jason said, his grin fading at Tim’s darkening expression. “Look, I know we got off on the wrong foot and it was mostly my fault. I’m sorry about that. But now maybe we can let it go and start over? Whaddya say, friends?” He stuck out his hand.

He really did look genuine, and… after all, Tim thought reluctantly, first (or second, or third…) impressions could be misleading. Remembering Conner’s disappointment in his harsh judgment last night, he decided to give Jason another chance. “Alright, friends,” he said slowly, shaking his hand.

“Awesome,” beamed Jason. “Hey, now that we’re friends can I ask you a question?”

“Sure,” Tim said warily. Just because he’d decided to give Jason a chance didn’t mean he was unaware of the trouble that deceivingly innocent smile signified.

“Why do you carry a white flower every day? Does Conner give it to you?”

On their very first date, Conner had presented Tim with a white flower. It’d become a tradition: a white flower from Conner every morning, symbolizing the strength of their love all this time later. Tim cherished the reminder every day.

“Yeah, he did,” Tim said, fingering the petals.

“Really? A white flower every day? Doesn’t that get old?”

“What?” Tim’s brow creased.

“Listen,” said Jason, “do you really love Conner? Like really? Because you’re really hot and you look so pretty at night, like I would give you at least a seven out of ten, and he’s at most a four.”

“...What are you trying to say?” Tim asked, his annoyance growing. It seemed that every time he was willing to give Jason a chance, he proved to be a complete, utter _imbecile_.

“ _And_ he has terrible fashion taste!” Jason continued, ignoring Tim’s increasing fury. “His shirt was ugly. In fact, it wasn’t just ugly, it was _fugly_.” He paused and squinted at Tim. “Wait, you know what fugly is, right?”

“How dare you! You said his shirt was nice!” Tim fumed. Who did Jason think he was, to come up to him and insult Conner after acting like he wanted to be friends? Tim resolved right then that Jason was undeserving of even an iota of a chance. He was just rotten, down to the core.

“I’m telling you, he’s seriously boring. He doesn’t drink on weekdays, why? So he won’t have a hangover the next morning?” Jason said mockingly. “How stupid is that? That poor farm boy, eating lobster, what if his stomach got _upset_?”

“Just shut _up!_ ” Tim snapped. He mentally counted to ten in an attempt to calm himself. It really, really wouldn’t do if he punched Jason outside their office. Even if he’d be doing the world a public service. “Look, didn’t I tell you to behave?” He got to the door of the building and stormed inside.

Jason hung back and stared for a moment, before rushing after him. “Yeah, but that was in the office! And now we’re friends!” He caught up to Tim. “Why are you getting so angry? I was just making small talk!”

Tim spun around. “I thought I could give you another chance but now I don’t think so. Here,” he looked into his folder, grabbed the list of props he needed, and shoved it at Jason. “I want these props right away.”

“Why do you always need everything ‘right away’?” Jason groused. “Don’t you ever stop to smell the roses?”

“I’m sure you can handle getting everything we need,” Tim said coolly.

At that moment, Bruce peeked in from the hallway. “What’s going on here?” he asked.

“I was just sending Jason to get the props for Lily’s room, and we were wondering if you had any special requirements,” Tim said sweetly.

“Hmm, scene 18, right?” Bruce said thoughtfully, closing his eyes to visualize it. “Lily’s introduction shot. She’s sleeping on her bed, the first rays of sunlight peeking through the curtains wake her up, romantic music is playing…” His eyes snapped open. “I need everything! Stuffed toys, heart-shaped pillows, floral bedspreads… I want lots of colors! But… _mostly pink_. Understand?” He addressed his question at Jason, who was staring in flabbergasted horror. He clapped Jason on the shoulder. “Think like a girl, my boy!”

Jason scowled at Tim’s mean smirk. Tim edited his mental scoreboard. Tim-1, Moronic Jerk-0.

“Go!” Bruce said pointedly, and Jason practically tripped over himself to get out the door. Tim smiled at Bruce, who gave him an approving smile back. Maybe the day was turning out alright after all.  

* * *

Meanwhile, as he was leaving, only one thought was in Jason’s head.

_Fuck, I hate it when he smiles like that._

In one of those stupid department stores, he picked a gigantic pink teddy bear off a shelf and grimaced at it. The damn thing was more than half his size. It was almost mesmerizing, it was so hideous, but he was pulled out of his reverie of disgust by a text tone.

It was the source of his misery himself.

**Tim: Meeting w/Bruce, tmrw morning, 9.**

_Welcome to hell, Jason._

 

 _Welcome to Heaven,_ the block letters read. Jason grinned, in complete agreement with the club’s entry sign. He was clear that a person worked so that they could enjoy life.

_If I can’t enjoy my life, what’s the point of working?_

The rules of spotting singles were simple: single people don't sit like boring couples. Single people don't talk to their dates on the phone.

He spotted a leggy blonde downing a drink at the bar… Taken people never drink that much.

“Hey,” Jason said.

“Hey,” she replied, looking disinterested.

“I can solve your problem,” Jason offered, pleased when she turned to look at him questioningly.

“Oh? You can go away?” she said. Jason snorted and a pleased smirk spread across her face. “Does that line actually work on anyone ever?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Ouch!” she gasped, putting a hand to her chest dramatically. “Right in my faith in humanity.”

Grinning, Jason stuck his hand out. “I’m Jay.”

“Steph,” she said, shaking his hand. Her hand was warm. “So what do you do, Jay?”

“I own a farm,” he lied. Jason _really_ tried to avoid admitting out loud that he made romance movies.

“Nice.”

“Do you wanna dance?” he asked, holding his hand out again. Steph turned in her seat and gave him a blatant once over, from his slightly ratty converse to his black button-up, to his messy black hair with the white streak in front he never bothered to dye over. If he were a little less cocky, he might have felt self-conscious.

She shrugged. “Sure.”

Several dances and even more drinks later, they stumbled out of the club, laughing uproariously. The club adjoined a hotel, and Steph dragged him inside. “Here, hold this,” she said, shoving her handbag at him, before tripping towards the bathroom.

Jason stood outside for a few minutes, his brain a happy, drunken haze. Later on, he would chalk up his next actions to the many, _many_ drinks he’d consumed. He walked up to the bathroom and dramatically flung open the door, Steph’s bag slung over his arm, expecting to see Steph herself.

And like always, fate threw a wrench in his plans.

“ _Jason?”_ said Tim. Steph was hunched over the toilet and seemed to be in the process of emptying her stomach. Tim was holding her hair back. He narrowed his eyes at Jason. “What are you doing here?”

“I just came in to check on Steph,” Jason said.

Steph finished puking and stood up. “Jay, have you met my friend Tim? He helped me out so much!” she said, emphasizing her gratitude for Tim with a slap on his ass. Tim jumped and Jason snickered.

“Really? How _sweet_ ,” said Jason. Steph wobbled over to Jason on unsteady feet, throwing her arms around him.

“Did you know that Tim’s boyfriend owns a farm too? Just like _my_ boyfriend,” she said, pinching Jason’s cheeks.

“ _Boyfriend?_ He’s your _boyfriend?_ ” Tim asked incredulously.

“Oh, _Tim_! Are you Conner’s boyfriend?” Jason asked. “Conner, who wears the really fugly shirts?”

Tim’s face contorted in outrage. Jason turned to Steph.

“Darling, I don’t want to run into Conner _here_ ,” he said under his breath. “This isn’t the farmer’s market.”

“Don’t feel bad, Tim, please,” Steph called as Jason dragged her toward the door.

“You know what--” Tim began, looking fit to burst, but Jason cut him off.

“Tim, you work in Hollywood, right? Yeah, I hear you’ve got a lot of attitude and yell at your employees a lot. You should speak nicely to people, they’ll feel nice. Bye, Tim!” He hauled Steph from the bathroom and they both burst out laughing, falling over themselves as they left the hotel.

On the front steps they almost mowed someone over, and Jason looked up to apologize.

“Conner?” Conner looked bewildered.

“Jason?”

“Conner Kent, my _man_!” he crowed. “What a _shirt_ , see, look, Steph? _Blue_.” Steph gave him a once-over and made an approving sound.

“Thanks,” said Conner, the confusion not entirely gone from his expression. “What are you doing here?”

“What does someone do in the restroom, Conner?” Jason asked sarcastically. Steph giggled.

“Yeah but--”

“What’s that?” Jason gestured at a small silver-wrapped box Conner was carrying.

“Oh, this? It’s our anniversary today, it’s just a small gift,” Conner replied.

Jason’s eyes widened. “When did you get married?!”

“Oh! No, not that one, the other one,” Conner said quickly. Jason took a second to think about it before realizing what he must mean.

“ _Oh_ ,” he said with a leer. “Naughty, naughty, Conner Kent.”

Conner went bright red. “No, not like that! We started dating on this day.”

“Aww, how sweet,” Steph cooed.

“You know, next year this day will be our anniversary too,” Jason said, too sweetly to fool anyone, except it seemed to work on Conner.

“We can celebrate together,” Steph added. “I _love_ farmers.”

Steph winked flirtatiously and Conner’s mouth dropped open a little. Jason caught his eye and glanced pointedly at Steph, winking too. Speechless and red, Conner dropped his gaze from Jason’s and then his mouth snapped shut suddenly.

“Darling!” he exclaimed. Jason smirked, wondering just how long Tim had been standing there. He thought he could feel Tim’s angry blue eyes boring into the back of his head. “Um, shall we go?” Jason peeked back at Tim, inordinately pleased to see Tim looking livid.

“ _Darling,_ ” Jason said to Steph, “shall we go too?”

“Okay.” Steph wound herself tighter around him.

“C’mon.” Remembering Tim was behind him, and too drunk to pass up an opportunity to antagonize his new boss, he tossed his parting remark over his shoulder casually. “Oh, and Tim, you really should talk to your staff nicely, even outside the office.”

Tim’s jaw dropped, which was everything Jason had hoped for. He led Steph away from the deluded lovebirds so they could catch a cab to his apartment.


	3. Pants On Fire

Jason woke up with the distinct feeling that he was awfully late to something important.

_Shit, the meeting._

He groaned and scrubbed his hands over his face before sitting up. Steph’s clothes were still strewn everywhere, so she was still around... somewhere. Once he spotted the light on in the bathroom, he went to the kitchenette of his apartment to make the breakfast he’d promised her. He was already late to work, and he wasn’t a relationship guy, but he also didn’t kick people out of his apartment the morning after. The least you could do for someone who stayed the night is feed them in the morning. He was halfway through frying the bacon when she left the bathroom and started dashing around, gathering her stuff.

“I promised you the best breakfast ever, so we’ve got blueberry waffles, bacon, hash browns, and eggs. Did I miss anything?” She paused in her frantic search for her shoes and looked up with a strange expression on her face - guilt.

“Look, Jay, last night was fun and all, but I have to go,” she said awkwardly.

Jason found himself only able to respond with one word for the next few moments.

“What?”

“Yeah, I really have to go, I have work. I already called a cab.”

“What?”

“I’m really sorry you started making breakfast, I was hoping to leave before you got up so we could avoid this.”

“ _What_?”

She glanced at his clock. “Fuck, okay, I gotta go.” She hurried over and kissed his cheek. “Bye, Jay! It was a fun night.” She was practically out the door when Jason realized something.

“Steph, you only have one shoe!”

“It’s fine, it’ll make me look like Cinderella! I really gotta go!”

And with that she ran out. Confused, Jason stared after her. He’d never had someone literally run away after having sex with him. Especially not after he’d offered breakfast. He finished making the bacon and shoved all the food into a box, pulling on the first clothes he spotted, which were ratty jeans and a shirt that said the word “it” with a stick figure doing something rather inappropriate.

Once he’d hailed a taxi, he sat in the backseat and gobbled his food down, checking his phone to see one message from Bruce, twenty from Roy, two from Alfred and one from Tim, which said nothing except “Typical”. Jason glared at his phone. Tim didn’t know him. Even if he was _technically_ Jason’s boss at the moment, where did the little twerp think he got off saying shit like that?

He tipped the taxi driver and ran into the offices. Roy was standing outside Tim’s office, his expression possibly more fitting for an execution than a morning at the office. But Jason honestly wouldn’t put it past Tim to have constructed a guillotine for just such an occasion. Oh well, at least his last view would be pretty.

* * *

Tim was at the office bright and early in preparation for the meeting with Bruce and Jason. After the events of last night, he wasn’t exactly looking forward to seeing the latter. Knowing him, though, he probably wouldn’t even show. Tim smirked to himself.

_That would be fantastic._

Nine a.m. and Jason was nowhere to be seen. Tim sent him a text that just said “Typical”. Of course he’d continue in his incredibly irresponsible ways and just not bother to come to the meeting Tim had _specifically_ reminded him about.

The meeting had to begin anyway, so Tim explained his model set to Bruce. His plans were perfect, of course, and Bruce only had minor artistic comments to make. He was just saying “And here, I want curtains flying!” when Jason dashed in, half an hour late.

“Jason!” said Bruce, his exaggerated excitement making Jason flinch. “You know, every morning I wake up and wish for just _one_ thing: please let me receive the honor of seeing Jason today. And voila, here you are!” Tim had to hide his smile, so satisfied at Jason _finally_ getting what was coming to him. There was no way he could explain his way out of this one.

Jason winced at Bruce’s biting tone. “Bruce, I--”

“Get out,” Bruce snapped. “If you can’t make it to the office on time, then don’t come at all.”

“My dog died,” Jason blurted out. Tim’s eyes widened, and he glared at Jason, affronted.

_Liar, liar, pants on fire!_

“What?” Bruce asked.

“Last night. I was taking him for a walk and he just… slipped his leash and got hit by a car,” Jason said, faking a downcast tone.

Tim was seething at Jason’s baldfaced lies. How could anyone fall for this crap? Unfortunately, it seemed that Bruce had.

“Uh, I’m really sorry, Jason,” Bruce said, his eyes softening. “Why don’t you go wash your face, freshen up?”

Jason nodded and left, leaving Tim to glare at his back, hoping he could make Jason spontaneously burst into fire.

“His eyes were red, poor guy,” Bruce said quietly to Tim. Tim scowled. _Yeah, because he was out_ clubbing _and getting wasted!_ Jason returned, looking a little better.

“Jason, why don’t you take the day off? Go home and rest,” Bruce said kindly.

“No, it’s okay, I think it’ll help if I concentrate on work,” Jason said bravely. Tim almost gagged at his awful performance, but Bruce was lapping it up.

“Oh, okay, if that’s what you want. Come here then, look at the beautiful model of the house that Tim made,” Bruce said. “Look at this beautiful staircase, it even has moulding! It’s just terrific, good job, Tim.”

Tim took a moment to bask in the praise, and saw his opportunity. “But, Bruce, Jason didn’t like this model,” he said brightly.

“What?”

“No, I loved it!” said Jason quickly, to a room of skeptical faces. “It’s just perfect for James and Lily. These windows are so beautiful. French windows, right? And here, on this balcony, they’ll have their first kiss. How… _different_.” Tim could clearly detect the thread of sarcasm in Jason’s words, but Bruce didn’t.

“Amazing! One tragedy has changed you so much, Jason,” Bruce said. “Look at you! Good idea, they can have their first kiss on the balcony.”

* * *

Jason felt slightly guilty about lying, of course, but at the same time, he’d almost expected more sympathy. Bruce let him off for being late, but kept him on Tim’s team, so really he didn’t do much he wouldn’t normally do.

_I mean, a guy’s theoretical dog dies, and all he offers is a late pass?_

Stupid Bruce.

_And, man, fuck Tim._

So Jason spent the next week working, reluctantly, on Tim’s team, getting props.

 

**Monday: The Chair**

Why this movie required a red armchair, Jason honestly had no idea. If anyone asked him which room the chair belonged in, which scene it was in, he wouldn’t be able to answer. But he did know the exact measurements Tim wanted and the exact shade of red, the exact height, the upholstery fabric, everything.

The chair that had been delivered to the set matched none of these specifications. It was too dark, too short, the upholstery was patterned wrong, and it was hideous. But as Jason looked at the red armchair in front of him, he couldn’t, for the life of him, bring himself to care.

He signed off for it.

“Man, you look miserable. Hangover?” the delivery guy asked.

“Ironically, no,” Jason said, not bothering to explain himself before sending the delivery guy off.

He lifted the chair onto a cart and rolled it over to the designated New Props corner.

“Oh, Jason, is that the chair?” Tim called, coming over.

“Yup.”

Tim stared at the chair for a solid thirty seconds before saying anything.

“This...isn’t the chair.”

Jason shrugged. “You ordered a red armchair, right? This is a red armchair.”

“Yes, but it’s not  _the_ armchair.”

Jason gave Tim an annoyed look. “What difference does it make?”

Tim sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

“I’ll reorder. Jason, please make sure the next one is right.”

“Sure,” Jason muttered. Tim scowled at him and stalked off, to go obsess over some other useless detail about the set.

 

**Wednesday: The Candlestick**

Jason had been letting it slide when some props weren’t quite right. Sometimes he didn’t know, but quite often he knew and pretended like he didn’t.

This time, though, it would be hard to pretend he hadn’t noticed, since the third weirdly ornate candlestick was about six inches shorter than the first and the second. It was amusing, how much they didn’t match. He was carrying the three candlesticks over to the props corner, wondering if he could get away with not doing anything - or maybe just cutting off the bottom couple inches of the first two candlesticks - when Tim spotted him.

“Jason, are those the candlesticks for the dinner scene?”

Jason could truthfully say he had no idea if they were the candlesticks for the dinner scene.

“Uh…”

“ _Jason_.” Tim was wearing glasses today, and looking much more irritable than normal, even though Jason almost exclusively saw his annoyed face.

“Yeah?”

“Why is one shorter than the rest?” Tim demanded, crossing his arms and looking like he’d start tapping his foot on the floor any second, like an impatient cartoon character.

“Uh…”

“ _Fix it_ , Jason.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Yes, sir,” he droned. Tim’s eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Jason, this should have been easy. It’s just a candlestick. Fix. It.”

 

**Friday: The Portrait**

This one was almost comical, it was so incorrect. Jason actually felt a little bad about this one, because… well, it was just so wrong. Comically wrong. It would have been a good joke if it had been intentional.

The family portrait that was supposed to hang in the living room was supposed to be ridiculously, excessively large and ridiculously, excessively, ornately framed. The plan was for it to hang in the living room of the mansion Tim had designed as James’ house.

The frame made Jason seem small, which was impressive as he was over six foot and decently broad, a fact which he was rather proud of, since he’d worked pretty hard for it. Tim was standing next to the frame, and Jason nearly laughed looking at how small _Tim_ seemed next to it - like a doll. Tim raised his eyebrows, motioning for Jason to unroll the portrait so they could check the print before they framed it.

And then Jason felt like an idiot.

“Jason,” Tim growled. Jason felt his stomach swoop with dread.

“Yeah?”

“Why is the print a quarter of the size of the frame?”

Jason winced. “I...must have botched the scaling when I ordered it.”

“Jason,” Tim said exasperatedly. To Jason it sounded more like he’d said “You fucker.”

“I know, I know. Fix it.”

“ _Yes_ , Jason. _Fix it_. And don’t be so goddamn careless with the props. These cost money, you know. And when I made the budget I didn’t take idiocy into account.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Jason drawled, tamping down the slight - very slight - guilt he felt.

 

Everything Jason did, Tim found fault with. Jason could see that things were slowly building up and one day they finally came to a head.

“This isn’t a joke, Jason!” Tim bit out, eyes flashing behind his glasses. “I asked you to just bring one simple vase, how could you mess that up? I don’t know what your problem is.”

“I’m sorry, I--”

“No, this isn’t about just one vase. Everything you do is _wrong_ , Jason. This is _my_ set and I’ll make it however I see fit. I don’t need your expert opinion, and if you can’t do things right then just leave!” Tim stormed off, leaving Jason standing there, wondering how he could fix _this_ . As he turned to leave, he noticed Tim’s phone ringing on the table, the screen lighting up with a picture of Conner. He frowned. _Why is Conner calling during work hours?_ He quickly shook off his curiosity, though. He didn’t want to care about Tim’s problems, not when they could barely even manage civility.

Jason was able to avoid Tim, and Bruce, for the rest of the day, which was quite the feat, since Bruce was especially raring and ready to yell at Jason, according to Roy, who was torn between sympathy and amusement. Roy also said that Jason probably deserved to be yelled at by Tim, since he was fucking up remarkably simple tasks. Roy even added that Tim was kinda hot when he was yelling and he was considering modifying the chart slightly.

That was when Jason left, which was a mistake because he ran right into Alfred.

Now, Bruce had his frightening moments, but Alfred was the master of making you feel like you’d done something morally wrong by just looking at you with disappointed eyes and offering you tea. The only thing worse than being yelled at by Tim in front of everyone was being not yelled at by Alfred. In a British accent, no less. And the worst part was, Jason couldn’t run. Running from Alfred was the ultimate disappointment.

“Jason, please come speak with me for a moment,” Alfred said kindly, but firmly. Jason knew he was sunk.

“Yeah, Alf.” He followed Alfred into his office, and Alfred shut the door behind him.

“Tea, Jason?”

Jason sighed. The tea of the disappointed talk was Earl Grey. “Sure, Alf.”

Somehow, Alfred always had hot water ready at the drop of a hat. Jason was handed a large mug and a tea bag. They sat.

“Jason… Bruce has given you a lot of chances.”

“I know.”

“You’ve been working with Bruce for his past two movies, Jason, right?”

“Yeah, I have.”

“And is this the first romance you’ve worked on?”

Jason’s face twisted reflexively. “Yeah.”

“I know you’re not a fan of romance movies, but it’s time you pull up your socks, lad,” Alfred said seriously. Jason was drowning in the waves of disappointment coming off Alfred.

“I’m sorry, Alf.”

Alfred smiled. “I hardly need an apology, Jason. But thank you. How’s your tea?”

“Excellent, as always,” Jason replied immediately.

“Wonderful. And other than today’s strife, how is it, working with Tim?”

Jason tried to word it delicately, since it was Alfred. “Tim is...very specific.”

“Specific?” Alfred asked, his lips twitching with amusement. Alfred obviously knew Jason was trying to be much more diplomatic than he truly felt, but continued to force him to come up with polite euphemisms for the insults he wanted to say.

“Yeah. And he’s...meticulous.” _If meticulous meant an obsessive asshole._

“And what do you think of the set he’s designed? Lily’s house and James’ house?”

“They’re very detailed,” Jason admitted. Tim was a pain, but the set was intricate and well designed. He sighed. “The set is very intricate and well designed,” he added, hoping Alfred would stop torturing him if he gave Tim a compliment.

“Yes, Bruce was very pleased with his work. He’s a very good art director and very dedicated. I think perhaps Bruce is hoping you’ll pick up some interest in this movie from him.”

“Even if I could find some interest in this movie, it wouldn’t be because of Tim,” Jason scoffed.

“Bruce will be quite disappointed,” Alfred said, amusement leaking into his tone.

“Alf, you know disappointing Bruce is my favorite part of the job,” Jason joked. Alfred gave him a disapproving look that was ruined by the way his eyes crinkled with mirth.

“Off with you, lad. I have work to do, and you should go home. Get a fresh start with Bruce and Tim in the morning.”

Jason nodded. “Thanks for the tea, Alf,” he said, flashing his best charming grin at the austere man.

“Good night, Jason.”

“Bye!” Jason gave Alfred a two-fingered salute as he left, knowing that tea wasn’t the drink he wanted right then. After a day like this, there was only one cure, so he went off in search of Roy for a night of drunken debauchery.

 

_And then, at the bar, something amazing and terrible happened: fate._

Jason cursed as his body ran into - practically ran over - a smaller body.

“Ah, sorry, man!”

“Jason?” Tim asked incredulously.

“Shit! Sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry,” Tim said. Shock froze Jason momentarily. “...For that.” He motioned down at Jason’s pants, where a dark stain was spreading across his crotch. The glass in Tim’s hand was newly emptied.  

Jason snorted, too drunk not to be amused.

“And--for--this morning,” Tim added haltingly. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

“Nah, it’s okay.”

“No, even Bruce heard,” Tim said, sounding surprisingly guilty.

“Tim, I know you didn’t mean it.”

Tim snorted. “Really? _I_ didn’t even know that.”

“Yeah, I know why you were so off-kilter today. Mr. Perfect’s troubling you, right? Listen, he’s a nice guy. Just explain to him that he shouldn’t call during work, because you’re busy running the entire set. He’ll get that you have to work, everything will be fine.”

Tim stared at him, eyes wide behind his glasses.

“And look, if that doesn’t work, just run away from home, like me.”

Tim’s jaw dropped open, completing the almost comical look of shock on his face.

“Shh,” Jason whispered, putting a finger to his lips. He then winked at Tim, and wobbled off to the bathroom.

* * *

The morning after found Tim still going over Jason’s words from last night. He realized that he didn’t really know anything about Jason, apart from the roguish act - and Tim felt sure that at least part of it had to be an act - that he put on. Tim burned with curiosity to know more about the person behind the cynicism and annoying comments.

Tim tried not to think about how Jason had noticed that he and Conner had been having problems, because then he’d actually have to think about the fact that, well, he and Conner had been having problems. Tim tried to rationalize it away as nothing other than typical bumpiness in relationships, but the fact was things had been tense and weird lately and Tim wasn’t really sure why. He shook himself and brought his attention back to his surroundings. There was no point fretting about this right now, when he had so much work to do.

They were planning the blocking today, and Tim always loved that part - seeing his designs come to life. “Alright, opening shot,” Bruce said. “James is standing on the balcony, and there’s a strong breeze blowing--Jason!”

Jason, who had just run in, stopped guiltily in his tracks.

“You’re late. Again!” said Bruce in a deceivingly pleasant voice. “Come on everyone, let’s give him a hand.” Bruce started clapping forcefully, glaring around meaningfully at the rest of the production team. There was a smattering of uncomfortable applause, and Jason looked incredibly embarrassed. “Normally, I’d yell at you,” Bruce continued. “But today I’m not going to do that. You know why? Because it never seems to make an impression on you. So today, you’re going to stand in that corner with your hands up like this.” Bruce raised his hands and smiled brightly at Jason. Jason smiled nervously and raised his hands, clearly thinking that Bruce was joking.

“It looks pretty funny, right?” Bruce said in a conspiratorial tone.

Jason laughed. “Yeah, it does,” he said, putting his hands down.

Bruce’s smile disappeared in a flash. “I’m serious! Go!”

Any other day, Tim would’ve been satisfied at Jason receiving his just desserts and laughed from the sidelines. But part of him still felt guilty after yelling at Jason yesterday. So he interrupted.

“Bruce, actually, I sent Jason to get some props, that’s why he’s late.”

Bruce frowned doubtfully. “...I see. Well, last warning, Jason.”

Jason shot Tim a grateful look and scurried off to the side.

“Anyway. We’ll start with a shot of James here,” Bruce continued. “Zoom in on him, pan up and…” he turned. “Tim! Where’s the painting?”

Tim blinked. “Oh, sorry.” He hurried over and held up the painting, feeling dwarfed by its large frame. Moments later, Jason joined him on the other side, helping him hold it up.

“Hey,” Jason whispered after a minute. “Thanks for that. Bruce can’t be trusted, next time he’ll make me cluck like a chicken or something.”

Tim laughed at that mental image. It _would_ be just like Bruce to make Jason to do that next time Jason pissed him off.

“Thanks for your speech last night.”

Jason winced. “I said too much, didn’t I? Sorry, man, it’s the beer.”

“It was the first time you said something that didn’t make me feel bad,” Tim said honestly.

Jason smiled, and Tim was struck by the thought that when Jason wasn’t being an asshole, he really did have a nice smile.

“So, apart from me, what are your problems?” Jason asked.

“Huh?”

“Love, maybe? Conner? Conner  _Kent_?” Jason teased.

Tim laughed again. “I love Conner.”

“I told you, you are seriously ill. You need help,” said Jason, rolling his eyes.

“He’s so sweet,” Tim continued, ignoring Jason’s ribbing. “If I fight with him even a little... my whole day is spoiled. But fights happen, you know how it is.”

“Definitely. That’s why I try to stay away from steady relationships.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. In the movie of my life there are just a couple scenes and then,” he made a slicing motion. “End titles. Speaking of which, if you have any hot friends--”

“Absolutely not,” Tim said flatly. “I’m not showing any of my friends such a bad movie.”

Jason gave him a mock-hurt look. “Fine!”

“Why did you run away from home?” Tim blurted out, unable to ignore his curiosity any longer.

Jason’s eyes widened. “Oh god, it’s not that dramatic! My mom had me when she was super young and then my sister a couple years after. I never really knew my dad, but when she wanted to get remarried I just…” He lifted his shoulder in a shrug. “I thought it was a terrible idea and we kept fighting about it, so I left. Didn’t go to the wedding and haven’t seen them since. That’s all. And you?” he continued before Tim could ask any further questions. “How’d you meet Conner?”

“Conner and I have known each other since we were little,” said Tim with a smile. “Best friends, you know? A perfect match. That’s all.”

“Oh my god, which movie did you two jump out of?” Jason asked in horror.

Before Tim could respond, Bruce called out to them. “What are you two still standing there for? It’s a wrap! We finished ages ago.” Tim awkwardly glanced at Jason and they both put the frame down.

 

“So, what, you don’t believe in love stories?” Tim asked as they sat in the empty set, sipping cold coffee. Jason bought it for him, probably as a thank you for the save in the morning.

Jason snorted. “It’s a practical world, man. There’s nothing like love.”

Tim gave him a look that was part exasperated and part resigned - he figured this was coming.

Jason continued. “It’s like...it’s like we’ve been conditioned from childhood to believe in something. Like religion, like god!”

“Oh, come on, now. What’s your problem with god?” Tim asked, curious rather than offended. He didn’t believe in god, but this was shaping up to be quite the interesting conversation, so he decided to play devil’s advocate. Or, rather, god’s advocate.

“How can I have a problem with something that doesn’t exist?”

“It’s not about whether it exists, Jason!”  

“Have you ever  _seen_ God, Tim? Is he your neighbor?” Jason asked sarcastically.

Tim snorted. “Religion is about _faith_. Look--”

“Oh, man, I’m sorry, it’s my fault. Of _course_ you believe in God. God brought you and Conner together! A match made in heaven.”

“Shut up, I’m not even religious,” Tim said, shoving Jason. But he was laughing.

“Hey, whoa, watch the coffee!” Jason cried out, laughing too.

“Oh, shit, my bad. Coffee shouldn’t be spilled.”

Jason raised one eyebrow. “Coffee is sacred, huh?”

Tim nodded sagely. “Coffee is sacred.”

Jason snickered at his serious tone. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

“Hey, coffee is  _sacred_. Coffee is  _my_ religion.”

“Okay, crazy. Wanna split a cab?”

“Sure, sounds good.”

Tim’s house was closer, so they gave that address to the taxi driver first. The driver was playing some agony aunt radio show, and Jason laughed at the person who called in.

“Love Guru, I see Mina every day at a grocery store…” was how the guy’s story started.

“See, did you hear that?” Jason muttered. Tim rolled his eyes.

“She’s just perfect,” the guy sighed.

“Everyone’s love is perfect at first,” Jason said. “And then you have to do such ridiculous stunts to keep it up.”

“I think this is a sexual problem, you need to _excite_ Mina,” was the advice from the Love Guru.

“Conner and I have known each other since we were kids. But our love hasn’t changed.”

“Really?” Jason asked skeptically.

“Yeah, we love the smallest things about each other. It’s love like in the movies.”

“Oh, god, come out of your world of movies, Tim. You know there are a lot of things other than this ‘love’ of yours?”

“Sex!” shouted the Love Guru suddenly.

Jason gave Tim a pointed look. “Sex, see? Hatred, jealousy.” Tim was rolling his eyes as he directed the taxi driver to his long, winding driveway.

“Uh huh,” he responded.

“Okay,” Jason said, ready to prove his point. “If Conner sees me in a taxi with you, he’ll--”

“Don’t be stupid, Conner’s not like that.”

Jason opened his door and ran around to Tim’s side to open that door for him.

“Thank you,” Tim said, surprised.

Jason smirked. “See? I’m a very sweet, innocent boy.” Tim rolled his eyes. Then Jason spotted Tim’s house and apparently couldn’t resist the opportunity to needle him. “Oh my god, Tim, which movie’s set is _this_?”

“Shut up,” Tim called, as he walked up his driveway. His house was large, he supposed, but it was hardly a mansion.

“Tim!” Tim turned to see Conner’s car parked alongside the taxi, and Conner himself standing in a pink button up with, of course, a white flower.

“Conner! What are you doing here?” Tim asked, smiling. He stretched upward on his tiptoes to kiss Conner’s cheek.

“I hardly see you, so I stopped to say hi on my way back,” Conner explained, smiling sweetly at his boyfriend.

“You are so sweet,” Tim said happily. He saw Jason pretending to gag out of the corner of his eye. “See, Jason, _this_ is what I call love,” Tim said, turning back to Jason. Conner finally acknowledged Jason’s presence in the driveway.

“Hey, man, what are you doing here?” he asked politely.

“Well, I came to say hi to _you_ ,” Jason joked. Tim sighed as one of Jason’s jokes went over Conner’s head once again. At least this one wasn’t really at Conner’s expense.

“Well, take care,” Conner said.

“Bye, guys,” Jason said, turning to leave.

“See you,” Tim called after him. Jason paused and turned back around, grinning. Tim was immediately suspicious.

“Conner!” Jason said like he’d just remembered something important. “Nice shirt.” His gaze flicked over to Tim for a second as Conner thanked him for the compliment. Tim rolled his eyes, but couldn’t keep a smile off his face. It _was_ kinda funny.

Conner suddenly spoke, only loud enough for Tim to hear.

“Why does he talk to you like that?” he asked.

Startled, Tim asked, “Like what?”

Conner gave him a disbelieving look and started back toward his car. Tim watched him go, concerned at the turn the night had taken. Worried by Conner’s reaction. His… jealousy.

 _What is happening? Is Jason right? Is my perfect life actually_ not _perfect?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've been informed by our non-Jaytim friends that Jason and Tim both kinda sound like assholes. Oops? Our friends are rooting for Conner. If you're rooting for Conner, this is not the fic for you. If Jason and Tim sound like assholes... well, let's be real, they kinda are? We love them anyway. 
> 
> Jason's stupid shirt #1: https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/bd/21/33/bd21332a110e588d9c2573504ba6cba6.jpg


	4. When I Got You

When Tim got to work, coffee in hand, he wasn’t the first one there, but he was early. He certainly wasn’t the last one there, because Jason still hadn’t arrived by a quarter past. Tim found that he wasn’t as irritated as he would have been the last week. Jason had been civil since their unspoken truce over coffee, and Tim was willing to try being nice.

Still, he was the senior staff, so when he saw Jason trying to climb through a window, of all things, Tim crept up behind him.

“Jason,” he said. Jason jumped and spun around, almost losing his balance. Tim hid a smirk.

“Tim! Hi,” Jason said guiltily. Tim raised his eyebrows and pointed at his watch. Jason mimicked him, pointing at his wrist, except there was no watch on it. Tim rolled his eyes. No wonder the guy was never on time. That, or he spent ages on his hair.

Jason’s hair was always ruffled, but also always looked good, even though there was a white streak in front. Tim hadn’t asked about the streak, but it appeared to be natural. The gravity-defying sweep of Jason’s hair didn’t seem quite as natural. Tim had his suspicions. Jason always looked too good to actually have just rolled out of bed. Even though his taste in clothes was questionable. He always wore jeans and he often had a worn leather jacket on, but his shirts varied from button ups to t-shirts with ridiculous jokes. Like his shirt today, which said “Love Blows”.

“What’s with the shirt?” Tim asked. “How is that even funny?”

Jason grinned wildly. “Well, it’s true, for one.”

“Still not funny, though. Ha-ha, love sucks, wow, so hilarious.”

Tim thought he might regret bringing up the shirt at all when Jason’s grin turned lecherous.

“Oh, _Tim_ ,” he started. “Love _doesn’t_ suck.”

“What--”

“Love _blows_ , Tim,” Jason drawled, raising one eyebrow. Tim choked on air, then glared at Jason, who looked extremely pleased with himself, much to Tim’s frustration.

“That’s...that’s completely inappropriate. Fix it.”

“And just how do you propose I do that? I didn’t bring another shirt just for the hell of it. I suppose I _could_ walk around without a shirt, but that seems _more_ inappropriate to me.” Tim spluttered with awkward indignation for a moment, though he couldn’t say he would really _mind_ it if Jason went through with it. Then he remembered he was supposed to disapprove at the same time he remembered the can of red spray paint in his hand. He sprayed a line across Jason’s chest, crossing out “Blows”.

Now Jason spluttered, first shocked then annoyed. His glare just deepened Tim’s satisfaction until Jason picked up a paint brush and swiped black paint over the hearts someone had decorated the set supports with. Tim rolled his eyes.

Not the best start to Tim’s plan to be nice, but all seemed forgiven by that afternoon, when Tim was supervising the construction of the exterior of James’ house and Jason was helping place the lamps on the walkway. They made eye contact and Jason immediately put his lamp down, then dipped it like it was a stage microphone, miming singing into it.

Tim snorted. He whipped out his phone and snapped a picture. Jason immediately stopped, looking horrified.

“Get back to work, you giant dork,” Tim called. “Let this be a lesson to you.”

It was, in Tim’s mind, a very productive day.

* * *

Today was a construction day, and Jason was actually caught up with all the work Tim gave him, leaving him jobless. He was supposed to make himself useful wherever needed, but that got pushed aside when he spotted a small, portable fan on one table, used to quickly dry paint.

He turned it on Tim, who was supervising as the carpenters aligned the entryway walls of James’ house. Tim’s hair was longer than Jason’s, falling around his face and curling at the back of his neck - the perfect length to whirl dramatically in the breeze from the small fan.

“Jason?” Tim asked, sounding amused. “What are you doing?”

“Me? Nothing.” Jason replied, putting on his sweetest smile, the one that always made his sister forgive him for taking the last cookie. Tim chuckled and shook his head.

“Watch the lights,” he called to the workers. Jason stepped around in front of him, to make sure the breeze blew his hair out of his face. It wasn’t nearly as dramatic if his hair was in his eyes.

“Jason,” Tim repeated.

“Yeah?”

“You can’t possibly do this all day,” Tim said, as though he thought this was an obvious flaw in Jason’s plan. Jason grinned.

It took a lot of walking backwards, and it involved a lot of exasperated looks from Tim, but Jason did, in fact, do it all day. Roy and Kori, the costume manager, laughed from the sidelines as he walked in front of Tim, going backwards so he could point the fan in Tim’s face, and holding the fan low, so Tim’s hair blew back and slightly up.

“Stop it,” Tim ordered, laughing, as the fan tousled his hair. He tried to avoid Jason, but Jason was committed, and snuck up on Tim just as he seemed to think he’d escaped.

The crew either thought it was funny or didn’t care enough to comment, but Jason could tell that Tim was stifling laughter the whole day. Jason himself snickered a couple of times when we was too slow to turn with Tim, meaning that Tim had to sweep his hair out of his face in order to see. It was very Pocahontas, Jason told Tim.

Tim gave him an exasperated look that was too tinged with amusement to be taken seriously.

It was, in Jason’s mind, a very productive day.

* * *

Tim stumbled into work that morning and knew it was going to be one of _those_ days. Last night, he and Conner had gotten into a long argument that basically boiled down to a) Conner being upset that Tim drank so much coffee all the time, and b) Tim thinking that Conner was full of it, with his obsessive healthy habits and high horse. Just because he was one of those weird peppy morning people who powered himself with the sunrise or something like that didn’t mean _Tim_ had to be too.

The end result was that Tim had gotten a grand total of three hours of sleep and was chugging a venti latte like his life depended on it - which at this point, it kinda did. As Tim downed savage gulps, he decided that the fact that it was now Conner’s fault that he was drinking coffee meant he’d won the argument.

A hollow victory, given that he felt like he was dying.

“Morning!” Jason jogged up to him, but his grin faded at the size of Tim’s coffee cup. “Uh, you doing okay there?”

Tim glared at him, pushing his glasses up resolutely. “Fine,” he bit out.

Jason gave him an uncertain look. “Right, hence enough espresso to power a small village?”

“Go check out the bridge supports in the garden, will you?” Tim snapped.

Jason gave him a salute and a crooked grin. “On it.”

Tim felt the corner of his mouth twitch up.

Fifteen minutes later, as he was supervising the construction of the balcony, he realized that he hadn’t heard back from Jason. Frowning, he glanced down to the garden to see--Jason. _Frolicking._ Across the bridge.

“Jason, what are you _doing_?” he called, half in disbelief, half in amusement.

Jason looked up and tossed him a cheery wave. “Just double checking the bridge supports work!”

Tim burst into helpless laughter as Jason crossed the bridge and started prancing back the other way. He pulled out his phone and snapped a picture, but Jason had learned from his last experience, and threw his arms up at the last minute.

Tim grinned, looking at the photo on his screen. This one was _definitely_ going in the scrapbook.

* * *

Jason and Tim were on break, and they were taking that time to grab some coffee at the mall near the movie set. Well, coffee in Tim’s case - Jason was drinking some whipped cream and caramel drizzled confection that Tim had raised a judging eyebrow at when he’d seen it.

_Judge on, Timbo. At least it doesn’t taste like garbage._

After all this time spent working with Tim, Jason liked to think he’d started to figure out Tim’s various moods. For example, whenever Tim and Mr. Perfect were fighting, Tim wore glasses. It was romance movie-worthy stuff, and also utterly _Tim_. So when he’d caught sight of the frames on Tim’s face that morning, he’d thought a coffee break would be just the thing to get his mind off whatever issues he was having this time.

But then Conner had called.

Jason fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat, trying his best to ignore the argument occurring across from him. Tim bit out an icy goodbye and finally hung up, looking vexed. Jason caught his eyes and stretched his face into an exaggerated smile using his fingers. Tim sighed and gave him a reluctant smile, still looking like he was this close to either yelling in frustration or bursting into tears. Clearly, this called for more desperate measures.

“Okay, that’s it,” Jason said, getting up and grabbing Tim’s hand.

“Wait, what are you doing?”

“Come on,” Jason said, dragging him toward the door. “We’re gonna buy ridiculous shit for Lily’s house and charge it to the movie.”

“What, no, Jason, I have a budget,” Tim complained.

“Well, that’s stupid,” Jason said.

Tim raised his eyebrows. “Nice argument. You won this one for sure.”

“I don’t see you whining anymore,” said Jason smugly.

Tim rolled his eyes. “That’s just because if I don’t let you do this, _you’ll_ just whine at _me_.”

They continued to bicker as they shopped, and as time passed Tim’s scowl was replaced with the beginnings of a smile. Finally, they were ready to leave the mall, a veritable army of bags in tow that Jason had to carry. He’d grumbled about being the one to carry all of them, but then Tim had pointed out that it had been Jason’s idea to shop in the first place. So he was stuck being pack mule.

“Jason, wait!” Tim said, eyes wide, as they passed the cinema. Jason turned to see Tim looking longingly at a movie poster of a couple kissing.

“No. No way,” Jason said, backing away.

“Please?” Tim begged, tugging on Jason’s arm.

Jason pulled away and ran towards the exit, leaving Tim trailing behind him, probably pouting. There were some things he was willing to do for Tim, but sitting through hell on a movie screen was _not_ one of them.

* * *

Tim had decided that Jason was really more useful helping him than as props manager. Jason complained at first, but finally admitted it was fair, as he’d managed to fuck up quite badly at being the props manager. Despite the admission, Jason seemed irked at the new things he’d been assigned to do. Today, for example, he was whining about Tim taking him to a building that Tim thought he could base the garden gazebo on.

“You know, the real tip off that I got demoted is you dragging me around sightseeing,” Jason moped, crossing his arms and glaring down at Tim.

“It’s not _sightseeing_ , Jason.”

“Tim, we’re at a sight. We’re seeing it. We’re sightseeing.”

“No, we’re not. We’re here because I’m using it as inspiration for the gazebo.”

Jason shook his head. “Why do we even have a gazebo?”

“It’s for the garden!”

“What kind of people have a bridge _and_ a gazebo in their garden? Isn’t that a bit excessive?”

“No, it’s beautiful. It’s _romantic_.” Jason stared at Tim for a second, seemingly contemplating his options. Then he bent over slightly and pretended to retch onto the sidewalk.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Could you be any less mature?”

“Probably,” Jason said cheerfully. “Come on, if we’re sightseeing we gotta get hot dogs.” He grabbed Tim’s arm and started dragging him toward a food cart.

“Jason, we’re _not_ sightseeing.”

“Okay, but we’re still getting chili dogs.”

“ _Ch_ _ili_ dogs?” Tim asked, his face screwed up in disgust, which Jason seemed to take as an attack on his honor.

“Yes, Timmy,” he said condescendingly. “Chili dogs,” he added, to the vendor.

“Don’t call me Timmy,” Tim muttered as the cart vendor started loading up their hot dogs with relish and pickles and chili. Jason handed the guy the money and grabbed the hot dogs, handing one to Tim with an expectant look.

“Come on,” he urged. Tim sighed and opened his mouth, clearly planning to take a small bite. Jason had apparently predicted Tim’s hesitance, because he grabbed Tim’s wrist, shoving more of the hot dog into his mouth. Tim let out a muffled sound of indignation.

“Jason, what the fuck?” he shouted, as he chewed. “Why’d you...oh, that’s really good,” he finished, sounding surprised. Jason grinned, looking satisfied, and took a bite of his own chili dog.

“Okay, let’s go see this sight.”

“Jason, it’s _not sightseeing_.”

“Shh, eat your chili dog.”

* * *

“Tim,” Jason said, trying to get his attention. Tim was in his office for once, instead of on set, planning something logistical that Jason didn’t care to keep track of.

Tim didn’t look up.

“Timothy,” he tried again.

Still nothing.

“Timberly, dearest,” Jason drawled, and finally Tim responded, with an eyeroll.

“What, Jason?”

“I know you are very busy organizing something very important, so I’m sorry to bother you,” Jason said, trying to be polite. It seemed to backfire, though, because Tim gave him a skeptical look.

“You’re trying to kiss-ass,” he said flatly. His eyes narrowed. “What do you want?”

Jason grinned.

“Well, since you asked so nicely... ”

Roy and Jason had both worked on Bruce’s last few movies. That meant they’d been working together for upwards of five years, and even before that, they’d been best friends. But since working together, they’d had a tradition. Every year, while there was a lull in their workload, as a movie was starting up and still getting its momentum, they initiated their war.

Their prank war.

It always started small, with fart cushions and replacement of each others’ belongings, but then yesterday Roy plastic-wrapped Jason’s bike - and when his bike got involved, things got serious.

Tim looked more and more curious as Jason explained the plan to him.

“So you want me to help you prank Roy?” he asked interestedly.

Jason grinned. “I need a trusty sidekick and lookout. I was gonna ask Kori, but I’m pretty sure she has a thing for Roy, so I wasn’t sure she’d agree, or be that trusty of a lookout.”

“Kori totally does have a thing for Roy,” Tim agreed.

“God knows why,” Jason said. “Kori’s _hot_ and nice, and Roy’s a moron.”

“You just said he was your best friend,” Tim pointed out.

“So who would know better than me that he’s a moron?” Jason countered. Tim chuckled. “Besides, I mean romantically. Mostly.”

“Okay, well, sure,” Tim said.

“Sure...you’ll help?” Jason clarified.

“I’ll help.”

Tim’s grin was wolfish and suddenly Jason felt like Little Red Riding Hood.

The prank was very simple. It was funny mostly because of how absurd it was. Jason had brought ten loaves of bread to work; the plan was to leave them all over Roy’s office.

Just, bread. Everywhere.

Tim had cracked up when Jason told him the idea, laughing until he was doubled over and clutching his sides. When he’d composed himself and wiped his eyes, it was down to business. Roy was Special Effects Supervisor, and he was in Bruce’s office, mulling over designs for some of the effects they’d need. It was supposed to take all day, but Jason had learned that, in the prank war, he could never be too careful, hence Tim’s recruitment to the cause.

Tim checked on Roy as Jason fetched the bread from where he’d stashed it under his desk.

“They look pretty entrenched in there,” Tim said.

“Good, perfect. Here, take two loaves and help me. When you’re done, keep watch.”

Ten loaves - Jason realized - was a lot of bread. He’d coated Roy’s entire desk, the seat of his chair, put some in all his drawers, hung one on all the handles available, and he still had some left. Tim’s two loaves had gone on the light fixtures, which was probably a fire hazard, but it looked so ridiculous that Jason didn’t care. The remainder ended up being tucked in the weirdest places he could think of, in the hopes that Roy would continue to find them for days. He’d already told the studio’s janitorial staff not to clean Roy’s office for the next week, so his prank wouldn’t make their jobs any harder.

Once the office was thoroughly breaded, Jason surveyed their work with a growing feeling of satisfaction. Then some laughter bubbled out of him.

“Tim, come see the final product,” he hissed. Tim came in and started laughing, pulling out his phone and taking some pictures. Just this once, Jason let Tim take a picture of him, for posterity. He had a piece of bread in his mouth and he was grinning around it, posed in a flourishing gesture toward Roy’s desk. Like Will Smith in that one picture of him and his wife. Tim was still laughing, and as Jason replaced the bread onto Roy’s desk, now with a chunk bitten out of it, he started laughing again too. They took refuge in Tim’s office, where they laughed for a solid few minutes, until they were just wheezing silently. Their laughter was barely dying down some when they heard a loud “What the fuck?! Why is there _bread everywhere_?” from down the hall and they were set off again.

“That,” Jason said through his laughter, “was one of my _bread-st_ works yet.” Tim groaned through his laughter.

“That was horrible, oh my god,” he said. “That pun was horrific, I can’t believe you just said that.”

“I was just,” Jason panted, “trying to get a _rise_ out of you.”

“Stop it!” Tim wheezed, his eyes watering. “I think I’m dying,” he added, collapsing onto his chair. Jason collapsed onto a chair too, and eventually they both caught their breath.

* * *

Tim hadn’t really registered it, but at some point Jason stopped coming in late. Tim got used to Jason showing up with a thermos of coffee just a few minutes after he got in. That Tuesday, when Jason offered him the thermos, it occurred to Tim for the first time to be suspicious.

“Are you trying to poison me?”

Jason laughed. “Sorry, what?”

“You keep bringing coffee in, and now I’m suspicious.”

“Hey, I can be nice!”

“Yeah, but you’re not,” Tim pointed out. Jason pouted. “Oh my god, wait. I know. One of these days it’s gonna be Irish coffee and I’m not going to notice and I’m gonna get drunk at work. I figured it out. Your plan failed!”

Jason was roaring with laughter at this point, dampening Tim’s triumphant feeling.

“Tim, you’re ridiculously paranoid, you know that? I’m not trying to get you drunk at work, although that would be hilarious and now I’m seriously considering it.”

“Well, then what’s with the daily coffee?”

Jason shrugged. “People tend to gift me coffee. I don’t drink it that much, though.”

Tim could practically feel his eyes bug out. “People just _give_ you coffee? How? Why? How come _you_ give off the vibe that makes people give you _free coffee_ , but I don’t? Unfair.”

Jason grinned. “Maybe because I occasionally _drink_ coffee, I don’t _worship_ it. If people went around giving _you_ coffee, they’d be feeding an addiction, not giving a gift.”

“You give me coffee,” Tim pointed out.

Jason shrugged. “What can I say? I’m an enabler.”

Tim eyed the coffee suspiciously. “So there’s nothing wrong with this coffee?”

“Well, it’s getting cold, since its intended recipient isn’t drinking it,” Jason said, shoving the thermos at him. Tim reached out and took it, still cautious. “‘Oh, thank you Jason, for bringing me coffee every day. It’s very kind and thoughtful of you,’” Jason added, pitching his voice higher in what must have been an attempt to imitate Tim.

“Yeah, yeah, go help set up James’ dining room.” Jason rolled his eyes and went to start directing the prop placement. “And thanks, Jason,” Tim called out after him. Jason raised his hand in acknowledgment.

It really was good coffee, Tim thought to himself as he sipped it. And, despite Jason’s warning, the thermos kept it pretty hot. It lasted Tim for about an hour and then he went to return the thermos to Jason.

Jason, still in the dining room, was carrying props around and, to Tim’s delighted amusement, was pretending to weight-lift with a vase. Jason spotted him and immediately set the prop down, looking mortified, and Tim burst out laughing.

He was _ridiculous_. Ridiculous, but a good source of coffee.

* * *

Jason munched on Pringles as Tim gave him the play-by-play of his latest date with Mr. Perfect with a dreamy look on his face. “And after dinner, we went for a carriage ride--” Tim stopped as he turned to face Jason.

Jason blinked. “What?”

“Jason, where did you get those?” he asked slowly.

“Around,” Jason said vaguely.

“You--did you _steal_ my chips?” Tim asked, looking outraged.

Jason grinned. “I wouldn’t call it _stealing_ , per se. I mean, you just left them lying around, what did you expect?” He reveled in the growing irritation on Tim’s face.

Tim made a grabbing motion but Jason danced back, laughing. “Finders-keepers, Timmy, next time you should--ow!”

Tim had stepped on his foot and in Jason’s momentary distraction, grabbed the chips back.

“Mine,” he said, before pulling a chip out and taking a gloating bite.

Jason glared at him, rubbing his poor abused foot. “You have serious problems, you know that?”

“So you keep telling me,” Tim said with a smirk.

They battled it out over the Pringles for the rest of the day. In the end, it was a draw - Jason was pretty sure he’d gotten to eat more of the chips, but he was _also_ sure both his feet were murdered. Because Tim was evil.

“Okay,” Tim said brightly. “What did we learn today?”

“That you’re a sadist,” Jason growled.

“ _No_ ,” Tim said with a glare. “That we should bring our own snacks instead of _mooching_ off our friends.”

Jason started in surprise at Tim’s words. Sure, they’d been spending more or less their entire days with each other for awhile now, but it still stirred up something Jason couldn’t quite pinpoint to hear Tim refer to them as _friends._ He was probably glad, he decided.

“Aw, but Timmy,” he drawled, “What else are friends for?”

* * *

“Okay,” Tim said brusquely, holding up two pillows. Both were the same shade of pink, but one had a floral pattern in black and the other in white. Tim personally thought the black floral pattern was better, but he thought he might as well get an outside opinion. “Right or left?”

Seeing as that opinion was coming from _Jason,_ however, Tim was prepared to take it with a grain of salt. Or a few grains. Maybe a whole salt-shaker.

Shopping for props with Jason was quickly becoming one of Tim’s favorite pastimes. Jason almost never had anything useful to add. What he _did_ have was an endless flow of whiny complaints and dumb jokes that never failed to make Tim laugh - or rather, glare exasperatedly at Jason while trying to conceal how amused he was. He never did a very good job.

Jason stared blankly at the pillows for a few moments. “Tim,” he said finally, “will you just pick one so we can _leave already_?”

Tim smacked Jason on the head with one of the pillows. “I _will_ once you tell me which one you like better.”

Jason huffed. “Okay, fine, whatever, this one,” he said, waving his hand at Tim’s preferred pillow, before stalking off to the registers.

Tim stared after him in surprise before laughing to himself. Maybe Jason did have good taste after all. Occasionally.

After they got back to the set, Tim got caught up supervising and planning. When it was time to leave for the day he realized that he hadn’t actually seen Jason since they’d returned from shopping. He went in search of Jason, and found him snoring lightly on one of the wooden platforms in the garden, head pillowed on his folded up jacket. He couldn’t help but grin at the sight. Jason looked deceivingly innocent in his sleep. Almost… adorable. Not that Tim would _ever_ admit that to him.

“Hey,” he whispered, shaking Jason awake.

Jason woke with a start and blinked groggily at Tim. “Huh?”

“You slept through the rest of the work day, you ass,” Tim said with a snort.

Jason winced, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. “Uh, oops?”

“It’s okay,” Tim said with a bright grin. “You can make it up to me by carrying those.” He motioned to the mountain of shopping bags next to them.

Jason’s eyes widened comically at the sight. “ _All_ of them?”

“Yep,” Tim said cheerfully. “Hurry up.”

Jason attempted to gather up the bags and Tim sauntered out the door, hiding a grin at Jason’s curses as he kept dropping bags and struggling to pick them up. _That’d_ teach him to take a nap during work hours.

* * *

Jason was having, by all accounts, a _nice_ day. Things had been pretty slow, so he’d spent most of the time chilling in Tim’s office, listening to Tim wax eloquent about whatever latest stupid romance movie he’d seen on date night with Mr. Fugly Shirts. Jason was pretty sure Tim only did this to annoy Jason. In turn, Jason interjected insulting comments about the romance genre in general and the state of Tim’s brain to get to Tim.

They had a pretty good thing going.

Jason was just trying to think of what his next smart remark would be when the door to Tim’s office banged open and a small projectile was tossed in. Jason heard a familiar evil cackle and saw a flash of red hair before the door slammed shut.

Tim was staring in confusion. “What the--” he dissolved into coughs. Jason was inundated in a sharp, floral-esque smell that smelled nothing like real flowers and everything like someone had taken what they thought might constitute a flower and dialed it up to a thousand. “Jason, fix this!” Tim snapped, waving his arm in a futile attempt to get rid of the overpowering scent.

Jason, eyes watering, made his way to the source of all the chaos, where it was lying innocently on the floor. A Febreze dispenser - ziptied to ensure continuous, well, dispensation. The whole thing just _screamed_ Roy _._ “I’m going to kill him,” Jason growled.

The effect was slightly ruined by the way the end of his sentence dissolved into a hacking cough.

“Okay, c’mon, we need to get outta here,” Jason said, grabbing Tim’s wrist and dragging him out the room, shutting the door behind them.

“Jason--wait--my office! You didn’t get the Febreze!” Tim complained.

“I’m sorry, did you want me to infect the whole goddamn hall?”

Tim scowled. “If that thing gets emptied out it’s gonna smell awful in there for _months_.”

This sounded just fine to Jason. After all, if Tim no longer had a base of operations to decide which horrible task to force Jason to do next, that could only work in Jason’s favor. Wisely, he decided not to voice this sentiment. “If you want someone to deal with that, it should be Roy. He’s the one who did it!”

“He only did it in retribution for the bread prank! This is still your fault,” Tim said, glaring.

“Hey, I seem to recall _someone_ laughing like a maniac and agreeing to help of their own free will,” Jason said. “You’re just as guilty as I am, accept punishment for your crimes.”

“Yeah, well, funny how it’s _my_ office that got screwed up,” Tim huffed.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Stop whining, c’mon, we can go chill in my office.”

They didn’t usually do this, as Tim’s office was bigger and nicer. (“Favoritism,” Jason would pout. “Bruce likes you better.” “I’m your _boss_ , I’m supposed to have a bigger office,” Tim would say with an eye-roll.) But today, it definitely won out over the Febreze-infested den that was Tim’s poor office.

They were just getting settled in when there was a knock on the door. “Come in!” Jason called. If it was Roy coming by to laugh at his handiwork… Jason was ready to give him the ass-kicking of his life.

The door cracked open and Kori poked her head in. “Jason, Tim, hello,” she said with a sunny smile. Kori was the kind of person that brightened a room just by being in it, and Jason found himself smiling back easily.

“What’s up?” he asked.

Kori bit her lip. “I am...sorry for this,” she said slowly, but there was laughter dancing behind her eyes.

Jason blinked. “Sorry for--” He was interrupted by Kori tightening the zip-tie on the Febreze dispenser she’d been holding behind her back, before throwing it in and shutting the door.

Jason gaped at the closed door. “Et tu, Kori?!” Somehow Roy must have gotten sweet, innocent Kori to help him out with his reign of Febrezed terror.

Tim was already making for the door, and Jason let out an exasperated sigh and followed him.

“Okay, so maybe it’s even now, but you don’t gotta look so smug,” he said accusingly to Tim, after they’d successfully navigated their exit.

“Accept punishment for your crimes,” Tim deadpanned.

“I can’t believe you’d throw my own words back at me like that,” Jason said with a scowl. “Actually, no, I can’t believe Kori betrayed us like that!”

Then he thought about the fondly amused looks Kori was wont to shoot Roy when Roy wasn’t looking and yeah, okay, maybe he could believe it. Tim seemed to share this thought, because he was looking at Jason with one of his patented _you’re-an-idiot_ looks.

“This is so much worse than the bread,” Jason muttered. “I mean technically, all we did is give him free food and what do we get in return?”

“I don’t think bread on light fixtures counts as free food, exactly,” Tim pointed out.

“Whose side are you on, anyway?!”

“Neither, because there are no sides. He can’t keep Febreze-ing us if we ignore his childish antics,” Tim said confidently. Jason refrained from pointing out that a guy who’d spent a good hour helping place bread all over someone’s office could hardly comment on childish antics. He _also_ didn’t comment on the fact that clearly, Tim had no idea of the lengths Roy would go to in order to screw with Jason. As long as Roy was intent on overwhelming them with nauseating floral fumes, they were doomed. Unless…

“Let’s go to Alfred’s office,” Jason said suddenly.

Tim blinked. “Wait, why?”

“C’mon, it’s basically sacred. No way Roy would try to Febreze _Alfred_ , we’ll be safe in there,” Jason said sagely.

So they traipsed over to Alfred’s office. Alfred, to his credit, accepted their vague excuses involving compromised offices with nothing more than a knowing smile. Jason had a sneaking suspicion that Alfred was entirely informed of what was really going on. After all, pretty much nothing happened on this set without Alfred knowing about it.

However, this turned out to be only a temporary respite when Tim realized he needed some blueprints from his office. Jason went to get a hand-held fan to help clear out Tim’s office; it was the same fan he’d used while he followed Tim around all day that one time, and he grinned at the memory.

They entered Tim’s office much like one might enter a house on fire, with sleeves over mouths and ginger steps. Jason held up the fan like a weapon, willing the Febreze to disperse. The thing had stopped spraying, thankfully. Tim grabbed the blueprints from his desk and they were just about to make for the door when it was thrown open, again, and another Febreze can sailed through the air, joining its kin.

Jason stared at the Febreze dispenser. And then at the door. He took a deep breath, and threw open the door, racing down the hallway after his cackling best friend.

“Harper, you _fucker_ ,” he shouted, ignoring the startled looks from people milling around. “I’m gonna put the ‘ _Roy_ ’ in _destroy_!”

* * *

When push came to shove, Tim was a planner. He had many operations going at any given time - from Operation Design This Movie Set, to Operation Stay Awake and Don’t Kill Anyone Today, to his latest one: Operation Get Jason to Watch a Romance Movie.

It wasn’t going very well.

Tim had collected a set of his favorite DVDs and brought them to work with the intention of showing Jason and maybe piquing his interest. He had all the classics, the best of the best, and he was going to get Jason interested if it killed him, dammit.

“This looks stupid,” Jason said flatly-- like he’d said for the last ten DVD cases Tim had shown him. But this time was all the worse, because the movie Jason had insulted was--

“ _Breakfast at Tiffany’s?”_ Tim asked, scandalized. “Did you just call _Breakfast at Tiffany’s_ ‘ _stupid_ ’?”

Jason squinted at him. “Oh, yeah, that’s the one with that Aubrey girl, right?”

Tim must have looked like he was going to have an aneurysm, because Jason grinned suddenly and patted him on the head. “Chill, Timmers, of course I know who Audrey Hepburn is.”

Tim scowled. “You’re an awful human being.”

“Probably,” said Jason cheerfully. “Still not gonna watch one of your sappy romance movies, though.”

Tim pulled out the next DVD. “What about The Notebook?”

Jason glanced at the cover. “Oh, wow, another couple kissing in the rain, groundbreaking.”

“For your information,” Tim said tartly, “this movie has one of the most iconic kisses in all romance movies, ever.”

Jason sighed, stretching out on the bench they were sitting on and linking his hands behind his head. “When are you gonna give this up?”

Tim peered in his bag. “Not for another fifteen DVDs, at least.” Jason’s horrified look, as always, did wonders for Tim’s mood.

500 Days of Summer, Casablanca, Moulin Rogue - nothing seemed to do the trick. Then they got to Dirty Dancing.

Jason looked at the title, before leering at Tim. “So how dirty _is_ this dancing, exactly?”

Tim rolled his eyes and shoved Jason off the bench, ignoring his yelp of surprise. He hated to admit it, but perhaps it was time to concede. Jason was just a lost cause.

The lost cause was rifling through the DVDs left in Tim’s bag. “I love this book,” he commented, pulling out a case. Tim stared at the cover, then let out a startled laugh.

“You do?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “What, didn’t think I could read?” he asked sardonically.

“No, more along the lines of… didn’t think you’d ever read a Jane Austen book. You do realize Pride and Prejudice is a love story, right?”

“I never said I hated _all_ love stories,” said Jason.

Tim stared.

“Okay, maybe I did,” Jason huffed. “But what I _meant_ is I hate unrealistic love stories.” He held up the DVD of Pride and Prejudice. “Now I haven’t seen the movie, but I love the book because it’s good writing, and it’s _realistic._ Like see, Elizabeth and Darcy start out hating each other, and sometimes they’re shitty to each other and they’re flawed as fuck, but along the way they realize that it isn’t about finding someone perfect, it’s about being weird and messed up together in a weird and messed up world but also being _happy_. That’s what relationships are really about.” He paused at Tim’s expression. “What?”

Tim realized he’d been staring, eyes wide at Jason’s impassioned speech. The way Jason’s eyes had lit up, the intensity of his tone… he hadn’t seen that side of Jason before.

He kind of wanted to see more of it.

“Nothing,” Tim said finally, clearing his throat. “Just didn’t figure you to be someone to have a lot of feelings about Jane Austen books.”

“I’m full of surprises,” Jason said, grinning. “So, what about you? Got a favorite Jane Austen book?”

“I’m more of a Mansfield Park person, myself,” Tim admitted.

Jason snorted. “You _would_ be.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, c’mon, sweet, perfect Edmund Bertram ring a bell?” Jason teased. “So, what, does that make you Fanny?”

Tim inadvertently did a wonderful fish impression, and Jason laughed. “I’m just pulling your leg. If there’s one thing you’re not, it’s a wallflower.” He paused thoughtfully. “No, I guess you’re much more like Elizabeth, huh? Prideful, stubborn, judgmental…”

“ _Judgmental?”_ Tim repeated, indignant. “Name _one_ time I’ve ever been judgmental.”

“Hi, I’m Jason,” Jason said, before affecting a high pitch in a poor imitation of Tim’s voice. “Hi, Jason, you’re the worst person to walk this planet, and also the Antichrist.”

“I don’t sound like that,” Tim said automatically. “Also, it was more like, ‘Hi, I’m Jason, and I’m going to be an ass to you for no reason at all, and then act like I was just trying to be friendly.’”

Jason grinned. “Say what you like, I know I’ve grown on you.”

“Yeah, right.” Maybe he had. But _only_ a little.

* * *

Jason _tried_ to come to work on time, he really did, but sometimes life just had it out for him. Especially when he’d been up late the night before enjoying the perks of being a young, good-looking guy in a town full of young, good-looking people.

He braced himself for a patented Tim Lecture as he ran into work. Luckily, he was well-versed in the behaviors of Timothy Drake, and the thermos of coffee he was carrying was sure to distract Tim long enough to escape the brunt of his annoyance. Jason hid a grin. Tim was just _too_ easy.

Tim stormed up to him, all of his five foot eight inches bristling with indignation. “Jason, do you have any idea what time it is?”

Jason gave him a cheesy grin. “Time to get a watch?” Jason realized it was probably a little strange that he enjoyed winding up the guy who was _technically_ his boss so much, but he couldn’t help it. It was just too funny watching Tim get all aggrieved and prickly. Like a small kitten who got petted the wrong way.

Except, Tim _wasn’t_ getting all aggrieved this time - in fact, he was smirking. “Funny you should say that, actually,” he said, before shoving a box at Jason.

Now, Jason was used to Tim shoving things at him. Lists of props to get, empty cups to fill with more coffee, the list went on and on. Boxes with the Apple logo on them, however, were not part of the status quo. Jason opened it, eyes widening at the item nestled inside.

“Tim, you--did you get me an _Apple watch?_ ”

Tim nodded. “You’re late so often and I noticed you’re never wearing a watch, so I figured I’d fix that.”

Jason stared, mouth hanging open. It was an oddly sweet gesture, but--

“I can’t--this is insane, I can’t accept this.”

Tim blinked, obviously confused. “Why not?”

“Do you have any idea how much these _cost_? I mean. You do, because you bought one, but--what the fuck?”

“It’s so useful, though!” Tim said, as if this somehow negated the part where he’d just dropped at least _two hundred_ dollars on Jason. “You can also track your fitness, and get directions, and use Siri to set up your daily schedule...” He trailed off at the look on Jason’s face. “Are you really going to turn down a gift?”

“I--no, I guess not…” Jason said slowly, though he was sure he would never use _half_ the features this thing had. “Wow, thank you?”

Tim shifted uncomfortably. “It’s really not a big deal. Think of it as repayment for all the coffee you bring me. Speaking of which…”

Jason rolled his eyes and handed him the thermos. “Here, you addict.” He paused. “Look, at least let me take you out to dinner or something?”

“Alright,” Tim said. “But I get to choose the place.”

So later, they grabbed dinner at one of Tim’s favorite restaurants, a quaint little place that Tim claimed had amazing Italian food.

“I don’t trust your taste-buds,” Jason said. “Not after _coffee_.”

But as much as Jason had dragged his feet, he grudgingly had to admit that maybe, possibly, Tim had good taste in food. Sometimes.

“If this was a person, I think I could marry it,” Jason said through a mouthful of ziti al forno that Tim had recommended specifically.

Tim gave him the smuggest “I told you so” look Jason had ever seen anyone wear.

“Alright, alright, so maybe I should’ve trusted you,” he said.

“Haven’t you learned by now I’m always right?” Tim asked.

“And so humble, too,” Jason said, the corner of his mouth curling up.

Tim scoffed. “Humility is for people who are wrong. Like you.”

Before Jason could come up with a snappy retort, the waiter came by with the check.

“I’ll get that,” Jason said, reaching for it immediately.

But then he glanced at the receipt and--well.

“On second thought...” he said slowly, handing Tim the check.

Tim’s lips twitched. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Shut up, I just need to go to an ATM,” Jason said as he stood, making for the door.

It took him a good fifteen minutes to even find one, and by the time he got back Tim looked fit to burst with boredom. “What took you so long?” he demanded as soon as Jason reached their table.

“ATMs don’t just grow on trees, you know,” Jason said. “Wait, where’s the--”

“I paid it, dumbass,” said Tim with an eyeroll, as he got up to leave.

“After I went to all that trouble to acquire funds?!” Jason asked, affronted. It wasn’t that Jason didn’t appreciate the free food and the gift, but it just felt weird to have someone spending all this money on him. It was _especially_ weird that that someone was Tim. They were friends, sure, but Tim was also his boss, and… Jason decided he didn’t really want to try quantifying whatever their relationship was.

That didn’t mean that he couldn’t tease the hell outta Tim, though.

“You gotta stop doing this. I mean, the watch and now dinner? I feel like you’re my sugar daddy or something.”

“I’m not--you--what?” Tim spluttered, his cheeks reddening.

“Well, not really, because you’re not getting any sugar,” Jason said, before waggling his eyebrows. “Although, that _could_ be remedied…”

Tim smacked him on the back of the head. “What needs to be remedied is the fact that I have to put up with you.”

* * *

Tim was fighting with Conner again. He wasn’t even sure how this one had started - but it ended as always with Conner ranting through the phone about how much time Tim spent at work.

“It feels like you don’t even want us to spend time together anymore,” said Conner, the tinny quality to his voice not disguising the deep hurt. “It’s difficult enough that you live in the city and _you_ never visit _me_ , and now you’re always off with _Jason_.”

Lately, Jason had become a point of contention in their arguments. Tim didn’t understand why. It wasn’t like--it wasn’t _like_ that, at all. Sure, Tim had gone from hating Jason to enjoying his company, but just because Jason had turned out to be an actually decent person didn’t mean _anything_ like what Conner was implying.

Tim scowled. “It’s for _work_ , Conner.”

“Is it?”

“I’m not having this conversation again,” Tim snapped. “I have a job I need to get back to.” He hung up, part of him wishing that he still had his flip phone from middle school, so he could get the satisfaction of ending the call by snapping it shut.

He hadn’t been lying on the phone - he did have so much work to get back to - but he took a few minutes to sit there and compose himself. He sighed, running his hand through his hair. How had his simple, _perfect_ life become so complicated?

There was a light thump in front of him and he looked up to see a box of coffee-flavored chocolates wrapped with a pretty ribbon and a note. He gingerly opened the note, confused. _I hope your religion can bring you some comfort_ , it said in neat letters. He glanced up to see Jason smiling at him from the other end of the room. Jason noticed him looking and blew him a kiss. Tim felt his face heat up and busied himself with taking a bite out of one of the chocolates, relishing the explosion of bitter and sweet on his tongue.

Later, they sat on one of the prop crates, sharing the box.

“See, now _this_ is how to make coffee taste good,” Jason said.

Tim glared. “You don’t deserve the blessing of coffee,” he informed Jason, taking the box away.

“Hey! Give that back!”

“It’s _my_ chocolate!”

They got into a scuffle over the chocolate box, Jason’s loud laughter drowning out the echoes of Conner’s accusations.

* * *

Jason and Tim had taken to eating their lunch on one of the benches in the the garden of James’ house, whereas most people fled the set for their hour off. It was always nice and quiet, so Jason was more than a little surprised to hear someone call Tim’s name.

Tim looked up and around. “Oh, Kori, hey, what’s up?”

“I must talk to you about Roy,” Kori said. For once, the sight of Kori didn’t put a smile on Jason’s face. Normally he’d love talking to her - the girl was gorgeous and, more importantly, completely genuine - but just then her slight Brazilian accent and her lack of contractions irked him. He and Tim had been in the middle of excited speculation about the new BioWare game that had just been announced - the new Mass Effect - and Jason was thrilled that he finally found someone else who was as ridiculously enthusiastic about it as he was.

And then Kori.

_Wait--Roy?_

“What about Roy?” Jason blurted out, interrupting whatever Tim had been saying about honesty. Tim glared at him.

“If you’re going to intrude on other people’s conversations, Jason, at least have the decency to keep up.” Jason gaped at Tim for a second as Kori giggled.

“Harsh, Tim,” he muttered. Tim rolled his eyes and continued lecturing Kori, who seemed to be actually interested in what he was saying. Something about being straightforward, but Jason got distracted by the sight of Roy peeking around the corner of James’ house.

He made a “what the fuck” sort of gesture at Roy, who made a shushing motion before pointing to Tim and Kori and then making a series of hand signs that probably meant _something_ , but Jason had no idea what.

“Hey, I’m not needed here--”

“Or wanted,” Tim added helpfully, giving Jason a cheeky grin. Jason bit back a smile and rolled his eyes.

“--So I’m just gonna go. See y’all after lunch.”

“Bye,” Tim and Kori chorused in response. Jason grabbed two slices of their pizza, shoving a third in his mouth, and made a beeline for Roy, who had ducked behind the wall of the set.

“Dude, what the fuck?” he said to Roy.

Roy whined. “Are they talking about me? What did they say?”

“I don’t know, I was too busy watching your scrawny ass try to communicate in some alien form of sign language,” Jason replied, taking a bite of one of his pizza slices.

“I was _trying_ to tell you to stay there and then tell me what they said later!” Roy screeched.

Jason snorted. “Yeah, there was no way I was gonna get that from your weird gestures. It looked like you were doing some weird, interpretive dance.”

“Jay, you are possibly the worst best friend ever.”

“Roy, you are possibly the worst gesture-er ever,” Jason replied. Roy scoffed. “Besides, what does it matter what they say about you? If you like Kori just go for it. She’s hot - way too hot for you, honestly - get her in bed before she realizes her mistake.”

Roy mumbled something that Jason was sure he misheard.

“I’m sorry, you’re gonna have to run that by me again.”

Roy rolled his eyes. “I _said_ , I don’t just want to bang her. I really like her.”

Jason’s jaw dropped open and some pizza fell out of his mouth, splattering on the ground. They both looked down at it, vaguely disgusted.

“Five second rule?” Roy said hesitantly, glancing at Jason to see if he’d do it. Jason shook his head.

“No, this place is way too nasty.” He grabbed the half-chewed pizza and chucked it into a trash can. “Now, what was this about actually liking her? The fuck, Roy?”

Roy groaned. “I don’t _know_ , okay. One day we’re talking and I’m checking out her boobs--”

“Understandable,” Jason interjected.

“--And the next thing I know I get this rush of like...feelings, or some shit. What do I do?”

Jason flung his hands in the air. “Fuck if I know, Roy. You’re asking me?”

Roy eyed him. “You’re right, rookie mistake. You know nothing. Some girl ran away from your bed last month.”

“Hey, that was clearly a fluke of some kind, she said she had to work.”

“Still, you’re right, asking you is useless. Who do I talk to about this sort of stuff?”

“Well, Kori is talking to Tim,” Jason said, mulling it over. “Guy’s a sucker for romance.”

“Oh, yeah! Tim has like a serious boyfriend, right? They’ve been dating for forever. I bet he knows a ton about relationships.”

“Yeah…” Jason said, realizing Conner’s entire existence, especially his relationship with Tim, had completely slipped his mind. Of course Kori wanted Tim’s advice - Tim was in a long-term relationship.

Jason was suddenly irked again.

“Listen, no, Tim’s useless. The guy has a completely unrealistic view of love and romance and shit. You don’t want his advice. Just...don’t fuck things up _intentionally_ , Roy.”

“I wouldn’t--”

Jason stared him down.

“Okay, I _would_ , but I _won’t_.”

“Good, then you’re set,” Jason said, more confidently than he felt. Roy still looked skeptical, but instead of arguing the point, he took one of Jason’s remaining pizza slices. Jason was fine with that trade off.

* * *

One of the final things they had to do was pick the house decor: curtains, bedspreads, blankets, throw pillows, and the like. Tim loved seeing the sets come together as he put the finishing touches on them, and sometimes he still felt so honored to work with Bruce Wayne on one of his iconic romances.

Jason was coming along because Tim wasn’t allowed to drive the props truck after a mishap with the parking brake and the locking mechanism that involved the loss of several props along the highway.

“It could have happened to _anyone_ ,” Tim argued as held the keys behind his back, so Jason wouldn’t confiscate them. Or, at least, he’d have to put slightly more effort into confiscating them.

Jason gave him a disbelieving look. “Okay, first, no, it couldn’t, that was _all_ you, Timbers. And second, even if that were true, it _didn’t_ happen to anyone else, it happened to you. I’m driving.” He stepped up close to Tim and reached around him for the keys. Tim stared up at him defiantly, holding the keys as far away from Jason as possible. Jason stepped closer, towering over Tim, still reaching for the keys. Tim sighed and relinquished them, knowing there was absolutely no way he could keep them away from Jason successfully for long. Jason was tall and broad and could definitely take him in any sort of physical confrontation.

“I’m a great driver,” he grumbled. Jason patted him on the head patronizingly before heading for the truck. “You suck!” he added, yelling across the parking lot.

“Get in the goddamn truck, Tim!” Jason called back.

Tim maintained that he was a great driver, but Jason did handle the truck much more confidently than he ever could. Tim was honestly glad he didn’t have to drive the truck again.

No way he was admitting it aloud, though.

“Okay, so what are we here for again?” Jason asked. Tim rolled his eyes, pulling out his checklist.

“Before lunch we should buy curtains, bedsheets, bed sets…” he noticed Jason wasn’t listening, instead typing out a text. “Pots for the plants, dildos…” Still no reaction. Tim rolled his eyes.

“Just follow me, Jason. You can push the cart.”

“Works for me,” Jason agreed. He grabbed a cart from outside as they entered. They were just past the registers and the display items when Jason froze.

“Wait, did you say _dildos_?” he whispered incredulously. Tim shook his head.

“Come _on_ , Jason, let’s go.”

Tim wandered down the aisles with Jason trailing behind him, picking up items that caught his eyes and checking things off the list one by one. An hour in, he reached back to put something in the cart and realized the cart wasn’t there.

Startled, he looked around frantically, wondering exactly when he’d lost Jason. Was it in the beds section? He’d never get help from Jason if he’d found somewhere to lie down. Then he spotted Jason.

He was _preening_.

Stifling a laugh, Tim pulled out his phone to take a picture, but at the last moment, Jason looked away from the mirror he’d been fixing his hair in, making smug, satisfied expressions at his reflection. He threw his hands in front of his face, so Tim ended up with another picture of Jason’s toned arms instead. It was definitely a keeper, though.

“Tim!” Jason grouched, the smugness replaced with annoyance and maybe some embarrassment.

“This wouldn’t be an issue if you focused on your job instead of your reflection, _Narcissus._ ”

“Shut it.”

Tim just laughed. “We’re half done, don’t worry.”

“Only half?” Jason asked, dismay filling his face. Tim laughed again and returned to his shopping. It ended up being just over two hours before they finished the second half of the list, and by that time Jason was slouched over the cart, dragging his feet as he pushed it along.

He perked up when he saw Tim heading for the register.

“Are we done?” he asked hopefully. Tim chuckled.

“Yeah, we’re done.”

“Oh, thank _god_ ,” Jason said, pushing the cart into line. “You take so long to pick things.”

“Well, they have to be right,” Tim replied immediately, feeling defensive. Jason grinned at him.

“I’m just messing, Timmy. I know.” Tim huffed and snatched the cart from him, making Jason laugh. Then they got called to the register and Tim saw Jason’s demeanor shift slightly, as he straightened up and ran a hand through his hair.

He was eyeing the guy at the register with interest.

Tim gave the guy a quick once-over. He was shorter than Jason, which wasn’t unusual, and taller than Tim, which wasn’t hard. He was Asian, probably Korean, Tim realized as he got closer. He was cute enough, but not Tim’s type. Then again, historically Tim’s type was pretty much just Conner. Conner and, like...Chris Evans as Captain America, or Shemar Moore on Criminal Minds.

The register guy was no Chris Evans or Shemar Moore, but Jason was still flirting outrageously the entire time they were making their purchases.

“So, did it hurt?” Jason asked. The guy rolled his eyes, but grinned, clearly also interested.

“What, when I fell from heaven?” he asked, sounding amused.

Tim was decidedly not amused. He signed the receipt and slammed the pen down with a little more force than necessary, ready to go. Jason didn’t seem interested in leaving, though.

“No, when you fell for me,” Jason said, smirking. The guy let out a grating laugh, while Tim let out an exasperated groan and grabbed Jason’s arm.

“Time to go, casanova,” he muttered, dragging Jason along as he shoved the cart in front of him.

“Hey, I was still talking!” Jason whined.

“We’re _working_ , Jason. Now is not the time to drop your stupid-ass pick up lines on people. Do that on your own time.”

“You,” Jason announced, “are no fun, Timbers. Sounds like you need to buck up and get yourself laid.”

“I have a boyfriend,” Tim pointed out. Jason raised his eyebrows, grinning.

“Are you telling me you’re planning on going home and letting Conner pound you into the mattress?”

“Jason!” Tim shouted. “ _No_ \--I--just... _no_! That’s so inappropriate, I’m your _boss_!”

Jason cackled.

* * *

Jason could admit he was disappointed that Tim had been the one to think of this idea instead of him. It was a _great_ idea, one he _should_ have thought of, but he didn’t. True, Tim had blurted it out in a paranoid panic and didn’t seem to appreciate the genius he’d conceived, but Jason was honestly and deeply heartbroken that such a beautiful brainchild wasn’t his own.

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t love it and cherish it before setting it free in the real world.

“Coffee, Timbo?” He had held off on giving Tim the coffee until after lunch, because Tim had walked in with a cup. Besides, it was better timed that way.

“Thanks, Jason,” Tim replied warmly, accepting the thermos. He took a sip and made a contemplative face, smacking his lips a little. “Huh, this one’s interesting. What is it?”

“It’s some blend from Ireland,” Jason said, forcing himself not to laugh.

“Huh. I’ve never tasted anything like it.”

“You like?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty good,” Tim said, taking another sip.

Jason grinned. “Good. What can I do for the rest of today, then?” Tim gave him a long laundry list of things to do, most of them having to do with the smaller sets, since the two main houses were nearly done as of earlier that day.

As Jason went through his list for the afternoon, he watched Tim drink his coffee. He wasn’t acting too differently, except that he was spacing out a bit, and humming almost constantly. The crew were giving Tim amused looks as he drifted around the set, suggesting things and making changes. Jason was surprised, but delighted, when Tim chugged the last third of it in one go before returning the thermos.

“How’s the list going?” Tim asked.

“Good, I’ve done most of it.”

“Good, that’s good. You know, I am in a really good mood,” Tim said. Jason grinned. .

“Are you?”

“Yeah. I can’t remember what I’m supposed to be doing, though.”

A snort escaped him despite his best efforts. “Working, probably. On the set...”

“Yeah...but I don’t wanna.”

“You don’t want to work on your set? Tim, are you okay?”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Tim snapped, looking mightily offended. Then he froze. “Oh my god.”

“What?” Tim started hitting Jason. “Ow, Jesus, Tim, quit it with the slapping!”

“You. Complete. _Imbecile_!” Tim hissed. “A ‘ _blend from Ireland_ ’? You _spiked_ my _coffee_?”

Jason’s remarkable success thus far at maintaining his poker face wasn’t enough and he burst out laughing. He laughed so hard he teared up, while Tim glared at him.

“I can’t breathe,” he wheezed.

“Jason, this _isn’t_ funny. What am I going to do?!”

“Oh, come on, relax. We only have to be around for an hour or so. Just pretend to do work or something, no one will know the difference, I promise.”

“I hate you,” Tim muttered, scowling. Jason slung an arm around him.

“Just wait till it _really_ kicks in. I put about six shots in that and you chugged the last bit pretty fast.” He started laughing again at the terror in Tim’s face.

As it turned out, Tim was right to be terrified, because the guy was a total lightweight. Half an hour after he’d stormed off, Jason was done with his list, and Tim was tripping on almost every prop on the ground. Jason figured he should probably go over and give Tim a hand, but it looked like Tim was making his way toward Jason anyway, albeit slowly, so he chose to sit back and watch instead.

“You,” Tim said, his normally sharp eyes unfocused, with a jab to Jason’s chest. “Are bad. You’re bad. You’re a bad boy.” Jason snickered.

“I’m a bad boy? You gonna _punish_ me, Tim?” Tim’s gaze snapped to Jason’s, but other than that he didn’t seem to process the innuendo.

“Yes--No...Jason, you’ve committed a _sin_!” Tim said, his voice a little too loud. Jason winced and looked around, but most of the crew had gone home. Jason and Tim were there with only the lighting guys for company.

Then, he realized what Tim had said. “What?”

“You’ve sinned!” Tim repeated. “Sacrilege of the highest order! _Blasphemy_!”

“Blasphemy?”

Tim jabbed him in the chest again. It was mildly painful. “You defiled a sacred object!”

“Oh my god. Are you talking about the coffee?”

“Yes, of course I am! You fouled my religion. With alcohol.”

Jason was laughing again, having trouble breathing again. Tim had passed tipsy and was undoubtedly drunk now.

“Why are you laughing?” Tim demanded. “I’m the boss of you, you can’t laugh at me!”

“God, Tim, this is gold. You’re so drunk.”

“I am not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not! I feel fine. And _if_ I were drunk, it would be entirely your fault, which makes you my slave.” Jason spluttered with laughter.

“What? Getting you drunk binds me in indentured servitude? Since when?””

“Since now, and I’m the boss of you. So there,” Tim said, smiling smugly, as though he’d posed an irrefutable, winning argument.

“Okay, Timmers, what do you want, then?”

“Ice cream!”

Jason chuckled. “Yeah, okay. Let’s go get ice cream. Wanna go to that place where they make it with liquid nitrogen?”

Tim looked up at him, eyes wide with childlike glee. “They _do_ that?!”

“Yeah, they do,” Jason replied, smiling down at him. Drunk Tim was cute, like a puppy or some small woodland creature.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go! Are you gonna call a cab or should I?”

“Actually, I brought my bike today.”

“And by bike you mean…?”

“Motorcycle, I mean motorcycle. You sober enough to hold on?” A wild, excited grin spread on Tim’s face, and Jason was surprised by just how good it looked on him.

“Oh _god_ , yes.”

Tim’s mouth fell open when he saw Jason’s bike. He made a circle around it, running his hands over it, practically drooling. Jason watched him, amused and not bothering to hide it, since Tim was too drunk to care.

“Are you sure motorcycles aren’t your religion? Because you look like you’ve seen god.”

“Shut up and get on the bike so I can get on the bike. I love this bike. I could marry this bike.”

“Conner might be disappointed.”

“Conner can suck it,” Tim shot back immediately, to Jason’s delight. “This bike is my new love.”

Jason laughed, but he got it. He loved his bike too. Riding a bike never got old.

The liquid nitrogen ice cream parlor was about twenty minutes away, and Jason could hear Tim laughing with glee whenever they turned or accelerated. Once they’d parked, Jason had to help Tim get off before he got off himself.

“That was amazing,” Tim sighed, pulling off the helmet. Jason smiled at his flattened helmet hair and reached out to ruffle it, since Tim was probably too drunk to realize how ridiculous he looked. Somehow Jason’s red helmet only ever made his hair look artfully windswept. Plenty of people had told him as much.

Plenty of people who he’d then proceeded to...well, _take for a ride_ on his bike.

_Ahem._

“Yeah, bikes are great,” he replied, surprised at where his thoughts had wandered to. Tim was drunkenly oblivious, fixated on the prospect of ice cream.

“Come _on_ , Jay, let’s go,” Tim whined, grabbing Jason’s hand and dragging him to the door.

“Jay?” Jason asked, amused.

“Jason is too many syllables,” Tim explained.

Jason chuckled. “It’s two syllables, Tim.”

“And that’s one too many. Look at me, you don’t hear me going around asking people to call me Timothy. That’s _way_ too many syllables. Entirely unnecessary. It’s almost rude to have so many syllables. One is enough.”

“Then how come you don’t call Conner ‘Con’?”

“He doesn’t like it, for some reason. Oh. Do _you_ care if I call you Jay?”

“Not particularly.”

“Good. Now come _on_. _Ice cream_.”

“Yeah, yeah. Yeesh, Drunk Tim is so pushy.”

“Chocolate coffee ice cream,” Tim said to the guy behind the counter, ignoring Jason. Jason ordered mint chocolate chip for himself, but mostly just watched Tim be excessively chatty with the ice cream guy. The guy started to look uncomfortable when Tim asked him if he believed in fate.

“I do. Believe in fate,” Tim said. “Jay doesn’t, do you? He doesn’t believe in God, or religion, at least, so I assume he doesn’t believe in fate.”

“How much is it?” Jason asked the ice cream guy.

“Eight dollars and forty-eight cents,” he said, looking relieved that he didn’t have to answer Tim. Jason handed the cash over and took the ice creams as Tim stared at the liquid nitrogen tanks.

“Do you think if I dipped myself in liquid nitrogen, they could unfreeze me in a thousand years and I could see the future?” Tim asked excitedly. Jason snorted and shook his head.

“He’s drunk,” he told the ice cream guy.

“I figured,” the guy said. “Please don’t let your boyfriend dip himself in our liquid nitrogen tanks. I’m pretty sure I’d get in trouble.” Jason ignored the “boyfriend” comment.

“Yeah, of course.”

“Jay! Ice cream!” Tim demanded, having relocated to a booth.

“Yeah, okay, okay, I’m coming. I totally believe in fate, just for the record.”

* * *

Tim _loved_ date night. Sure, he always loved spending time with Conner, but there was something special about date night.

Conner rang the doorbell and Tim, dolled up in his navy blue dress shirt and slacks, grinned as he ran down the stairs to let his boyfriend in.

“Hi, Conner!”

Conner smiled, offering him a bouquet of white flowers. “Hi, Tim.”

Tim reached up and kissed Conner warmly. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. Your parents aren’t around? I’d like to say hi.”

“Nah, they went out.”

“Okay, let’s go, then.” Conner opened the door for Tim to get into Conner’s car, a Honda Accord. Tim’s mom loved how sensible Conner was, the car being her main example. Conner was just...all-around perfect.

The restaurant this time was a Mongolian grill, where their food got prepared in front of them. It was delicious.

“Conner, this is great!” Tim said.

Conner grinned. “Right? We should definitely come here again.” Tim made a mental note to add it to his list of places to revisit. “So, how have things been at work?”

Tim brightened. “Everything’s going fantastic! We’ve finished casting and we’re gonna start filming as soon as we finalize everything, you know, make sure the set is picture-perfect.” Tim went on to excitedly explain everything he’d put together while Conner listened, a smile playing on his lips.

When the waiter brought the check, they both reached for it at the same time. “I’ll pay,” Tim said.

“No, I’ve got this,” Conner said firmly. Sensing there was no point in arguing, Tim sighed and surrendered the bill. As he watched Conner glance over their receipt, he remembered the time Jason had tried to pay for their dinner and completely failed. A laugh bubbled out of him. Jason was just so _ridiculous_.

“What’s so funny?” Conner asked, his brow creasing.

“Nothing, it’s stupid,” Tim said quickly. “Just something Jason did.” Tim could tell immediately this was the wrong thing to say by the way Conner’s expression flickered.

“What did Jason do now?” Conner asked, for once sounding annoyed rather than polite.

“It’s nothing. Just once when we went out for dinner, he offered to pay the check, but then he realized he didn’t have enough. And then, he made this whole fuss about going to an ATM and got up, but I just paid the check while he was gone. It was just ridiculous, you know? Classic Jason.”

Conner’s mouth twitched downward. “Classic Jason,” he murmured. “Yeah, of course.”

Tim frowned. “Conner, are you--”

“Let’s go,” Conner interrupted. “We still have to get dessert.” He forced a smile onto his face. Tim reluctantly complied. Conner was obviously upset, but if he didn’t want to talk about it, Tim didn’t want to force the issue. Especially not on date night.

“So where are we going for dessert?” Tim asked. At that Conner smiled, taking Tim’s hand as they walked to the car.

“I know you’ve been wanting to go to that place where they make ice cream with liquid nitrogen, so I figured we could go there,” he said, smiling down at Tim.

“Really? I love that place!” Tim said excitedly. Conner’s face fell, and he stopped, catching Tim by surprise. Tim lurched backward, then stared at Conner, confused.

“You’ve been there?” Conner asked.

Tim hesitated. “Well, just once. It was like a week ago, I went after work.”

Conner’s mouth twisted. “With Jason?”

Tim couldn’t _lie_ , but he knew where this was headed. “Yeah, with Jason, but I was _drunk_ , so I wasn’t--”

“You were _drunk_?” Conner asked incredulously. “In the middle of the week?”

“Well...yeah, Jason kinda spiked my coffee as a joke.” Conner scoffed. Tim soldiered on, despite it. “So we went and got ice cream, because apparently that’s what I wanted while I was drunk. I didn’t think I’d get a chance to go with you, but I’m so happy that we get to now.”

Conner looked at him disbelievingly, then let go of Tim’s hand to run both hands over his face. When his hands dropped, he looked furious.

“Tim, this is unbelievable,” he snapped. “You--we hardly see each other now that you’re working on that movie, but then we finally go on a date, and you tell me that you did actually have enough free time to go to an ice cream place at least twenty minutes away from anywhere else you go regularly, you just chose to spend that time with _Jason_? Do you even _care_ about spending time with me?”

“Of course I care about spending time with you! But you have to understand that right now I have the job of my dreams and I’m not going to apologize for spending time doing it!”

Conner glared. “Okay, so all that time you spend at ‘work’ is just doing work. And not hanging out with Jason, at all. You _just_ said you got ice cream with him. After he got you drunk. In the middle of the week.”

“We’re just friends, I don’t get why you have to keep reading more into it,” Tim bit out. “And this isn’t even about Jason, stop making this about him. This is about how you don’t respect what I do.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Conner snarled.

“You’re always calling me while I’m at work and complaining about me working, clearly you don’t think what I do is worthy of respect,” Tim spat, weeks of pent up anger spilling out of him.

“That’s not true, I can’t believe you’d accuse me of that. I’ve always supported you. More than you’ve supported me, even.”

“More than-- _what_?” Tim said, daring Conner to repeat himself.

“Come on, Tim, we both know you think I could do better than ‘just’ running a farm.”

“Okay, so maybe I do.” Tim admitted. “Maybe I think you could do _so much more_ with your life, is that so wrong?”

Conner rolled his eyes. “Maybe I could, maybe I couldn’t. But ever since you went to college and I didn’t, you’ve been acting like I made a bad choice, and I didn’t! I’m happy doing what I do. I’m happy with my life, I’m happy in the moment, being here with you. I used to think you were, too.”

“Of _course_ I’m happy,” said Tim softly.

Conner looked at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. “Okay,” he said, finally. “I’m glad you’re happy.”

Tim was used to this. Tim was used to Conner just agreeing with whatever Tim said so they wouldn’t keep arguing. Most of the time, Tim took the victory, hollow as it was. But for some reason, this time, Conner’s acquiescence made him even angrier.

“Okay, this is why we can never resolve our issues,” Tim snapped. “Because you always just give in and never _acknowledge_ that we have problems.”

“I didn’t think we _had_ any problems, Tim,” Conner said quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The inspiration for this chapter was from one of the songs in the movie, called Jab Mila Tu: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UVKAnn-fo1M. We highly recommend you take a listen, as it's a super catchy song. And the video's adorable.


	5. The Five Stages

Jason was pretty much used to sharing a cab with Tim every night. It was their routine. They’d hail a cab, banter in the backseat. They’d get to Tim’s house and Jason would get Tim’s door and crack some joke about how chivalrous he was, _really_. Tim would roll his eyes and fail at hiding a grin before wishing Jason good night.

So when Tim turned to Jason that night and said, “Hey--do you wanna join us for dinner?” Jason was understandably shocked.

He recovered quickly, though. “Us? You mean with your parents?”

Tim laughed. “I promise you won’t be bored. Come on, it’s not like you have anything better to do, anyway.”

“I _could_ ,” Jason muttered, but Tim was right. He didn’t have anything particularly fascinating planned for the evening, and truth be told, he was curious to see what kind of people Tim’s parents were. “Okay, yeah, thanks. That’d be nice.”

Dinner turned out to be at a very fancy Indian restaurant and Jason was glad he’d worn a button-up shirt instead of one of his t-shirts to work that day. He had almost worn a shirt that said “My pen is bigger than yours” and that probably wouldn’t have gone over well. Tim’s parents seemed the type who always presented themselves immaculately. Tim’s mom was petite, but all hard angles, no softness to her face. Tim’s dad was a bit shorter than Jason, but still had a commanding air about him, despite being narrow-built like Tim. Jason could see both of them in Tim. His eyes were his mother’s.

“So, what did you all do for Halloween?” Jason asked after they placed their orders.

Tim looked at him like he was stupid - so, really, how he always looked at him.

“We gave out candy to trick-or-treaters,” Tim said, as though it were obvious. “What else do you do on Halloween?” Jason decided to let that slide in front of Tim’s parents. He should have known that Tim hadn’t taken advantage of Halloween the way most people in their late twenties would.

He was saved from having to respond by Tim’s mom.

“So, Jason,” Janet said. “Is there anyone special in your life right now? Are you married?”

Jason blinked. “Oh, uh, no, I’m not married, and not really,” he said. He could feel Tim shifting uncomfortably next to him.

“A young, handsome boy like you? That can’t be true,” Jack chimed in.

“Dad!” Tim hissed.

“Tim, please,” Janet said.  “Just because you and Conner haven’t tied the knot yet, you don’t let any of your friends get married either? We’re just asking.”

Jason was amused to see that Tim had turned an interesting shade of red.

“No, it’s fine,” Jason said, stifling a grin. “Actually, there was someone, once.”

“Oh?” Janet asked with interest. “What happened?” Out of the corner of his eye, Jason saw that Tim was also watching him keenly, if skeptically.

Jason looked off into the distance theatrically. “Well, I loved her a lot. _Really_ loved her. But in the end, it wasn’t meant to be.”

“How come?” Tim’s parents were clearly buying into Jason’s story, but he could practically _feel_ Tim’s glare boring into him. Jason soldiered on nonetheless.

“Turned out she was an assassin,” he said, faking a dejected tone.

Janet stared at him, eyes wide, and Jack audibly gasped.

“Like, she killed people,” Jason added helpfully.

Tim let out an aggravated sigh. “Don’t listen to Jason, he’s just pulling your leg,” he said to his parents. “He’s not in a serious relationship right now, or interested in anything like that.”

“ _Oh_ ,” Jack said, nodding in understanding. “You’re the casanova type, huh?” He winked at Jason. “I was like that too, when I was your age.”

Janet shot her husband an exasperated look, and Jason shoved down the laugh that was threatening to bubble out of him. “Really?”

“Oh, yes. I was a tiger,” Jack said in a nostalgic tone. “And now...I stay at home like a house-cat.” He frowned at his glass. “I think I need another drink.”

“Cheers,” Jason said, grinning and tapping his glass against Jack’s.

Janet rolled her eyes and Jason had to continue pushing away the urge to burst out laughing. Tim was right - he certainly wasn’t bored.

The next thing he knew, Jason felt wetness seep through his shirt and pants, and he turned to see a stricken waiter holding a tray with one glass tipped over. Jason looked down at himself and put it together, finding himself less annoyed than he thought he’d be.

He stood to face the waiter, who looked even more frightened, and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Hey, don’t worry, man. It happens. It could happen to anyone.” The waiter looked relieved. Jason patted his shoulder a couple times before motioning for him to carry on. When he sat down, Tim was scrutinizing him with an unreadable expression as he offered a napkin. Jason smiled and mopped himself up as best he could.

“Son, when you got up, I thought you were gonna kill him,” Jack said. Jason forced himself not to bristle at the implication. Tim’s parents were clearly upper class and somewhat biased because of it. Jason was just glad they hadn’t rubbed that off on Tim.

“No, sir,” he said instead. “I don’t like it when someone behaves badly with their staff or the people working for them. It’s a display of inconsideration and undeserved privilege.”

Jason saw Tim’s mouth twitch, and wondered if he too was remembering the last time Jason had said that, in the bathroom of a hotel. Jack looked surprised and somewhat impressed, while Janet looked almost fascinated. Jason got the impression that the two of them had never contemplated the concept of privilege in their lives.

“Jason’s full of surprises, isn’t he?” Tim said to his parents, his expression and his tone indecipherable.

* * *

Tim sat on his bed, pasting his latest photo in his scrapbook. It was basically a tradition for him now - with each new movie he worked on, he’d start a scrapbook to document the memories on set. The people, the art, everything.

His latest scrapbook was filling up quickly, largely thanks to Jason. Tim had quite the collection of pictures of Jason goofing off, because he was ridiculous and it deserved to be documented. Slowly his scrapbook was filled with more photos of Jason than of anything else. He’d taken this last one earlier at dinner, when Jason had been caught unawares, and for once had actually ended up with a photo of his face rather than his arms.

He flipped through the pages, looking at all the pictures he’d taken over the past few months. Something was missing.

Maybe next time he’d get Jason to take a picture _with_ him.

* * *

Tim and Jason were in the middle of discussing the merits of mages versus rogues in the Dragon Age games when Jason’s phone went off, the caller ID showing the main offices.

“Hey, hold on,” he said, picking up. Tim felt a bit annoyed that his argument about the necessity of lockpicking was cut off. “Hello?”

Tim always felt weird hearing only one side of a conversation.

“Sure, when?” Jason asked, seeming surprised. Then, he added, “Now as in right this instant?”

The response must have been affirmative, because Jason only had the time to say “Okay” before the call was over. Jason stared at his phone, looking confused.

Tim gave him a questioning look.

“Alfred,” Jason explained. “He wants me to go back to the office.” He looked a bit nervous, like his head was running through all the things he could have possibly done wrong. Tim knew he hadn’t reported having any trouble with Jason since that first time, so he didn’t know what Jason thought he had to be nervous about.

“Problem?” Tim asked.

Jason smiled, a bit grimly. “Hope not.” He grabbed his bag and made for the door, spinning around to give Tim one of his stupid little two-fingered salutes. Tim couldn’t help a small smile.

But as Jason disappeared out the door, a strange feeling washed over Tim. Suddenly, despite all the crew milling around and the people waiting for his instructions, he felt like he was standing there alone.

_Why?_

* * *

Jason entered the offices to a very familiar sound - Bruce shouting.

“Mozart! Beethoven! Right?” Bruce was saying to some poor girl from the sound team who looked somewhat frightened.

“Hi, Bruce,” Jason announced. The sound girl shot him a grateful look at the interruption.

“Jason! You just disappeared. Have you joined Tim’s team?” Bruce snarked at him.

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Bruce, you _told_ me to join Tim’s team.”

“Don’t argue,” Bruce snapped. “Go, get ready, the actors are coming to read their dialogues for final callback.”

“Dick and Barbara?” Jason asked, wondering if he’d remembered right. He’d been working with Tim on the set for so long he’d almost forgotten he was actually the assistant director. Sure, Bruce had called him in for the important parts of the casting process and the beginning planning stages, but by far the majority of his time had been spent with Tim.

“Yes,” Bruce snapped, apparently sulking over being one-upped. “Go!”

Jason rolled his eyes and went to grab some scripts and get Alfred so they could meet Dick and Barbara outside.

Dick Grayson and Barbara Gordon were very famous and very good; Jason was excited to work with them. They didn’t just do romances, either, they were both known for doing action movies where they did their own crazy stunts, and they were every director’s first choice if they were filming a drama. The dream was to get both of them together, since they had amazing chemistry. No one was really sure if they were a couple or not, but every time they put out a movie together, the rumors started up again.

Jason had met them both, but only casually. Bruce had worked with them a lot over the years, so he’d introduced them once. Still, when an almost unbelievably good-looking guy and a gorgeous redhead walked into the building, he recognized them immediately.

“Alfred!” Dick called excitedly, nearly tackling the man in a hug. Jason snorted. He suddenly remembered that his first impression of Dick Grayson had involved comparison to an overgrown puppy in a human’s body.

“It’s lovely to see you, Alfred,” Barbara added, considerably calmer, but she too hugged Alfred, who looked pleased to see them.

“And you as well. This is Jason, Bruce’s new AD.”

“Hi,” Jason said. “Here are the scripts. I’ll take you upstairs to Bruce’s and he can tell you what he wants you to do, exactly.”

They bid farewell to Alfred, who was off to finalize some other roles. Bruce trusted him entirely.

“Hey, Jase,” Dick said once they were in the elevator. Jason took a second to register that he was being addressed.

“Jason,” he corrected reflexively. Dick looked surprised that Jason had turned down a nickname.

“Jay?” Dick tried, and gave him such a good rendition of puppy eyes that he sighed and gave in.

“Yeah?”

“Who’s taking auditions for the other roles? Do you know if anyone else hot has been cast?”

Jason’s gaze immediately flicked to Barbara to see her reaction, but she seemed amused, rather than annoyed, so Jason figured it was safe to answer.

“Alfred’s in charge of casting, and depends on your type, I guess.”

Dick grinned, flashing a set of perfect teeth. “I’m flexible,” he said cheerfully.

Barbara snorted. “He sure is,” she muttered, but still seemed amused. Jason felt like he was missing an inside joke and chose to keep silent.

Bruce was waiting for them and welcomed Dick and Barbara with a much wider smile than he ever turned on Jason, except for special occasions.

“Alright, Dick, Barbara, let’s get to it. Barbara, on the sofa, lying down, please. Dick, kneeling beside her.”

Both actors complied with Bruce’s directions, holding their scripts. Jason watched eagerly, remembering how much he loved the small steps in making a film.

“Okay,” Bruce started. “Lily and James are in a fake relationship right now. They’re all at James’ house, celebrating Christmas, when the house is attacked and Lily is injured. Now she’s in a coma at the hospital, she’s fighting for her life. James comes to visit her and...” Bruce motioned for Dick and Barbara to begin reading.

“Wake up, Lily,” Dick said, falling into character so easily that Jason almost forgot he was acting. “Wake up, I know you can hear everything I’m saying. You’re just pretending to be asleep so I’ll go away. It won’t work. Wake up, Lily, say something, please.” In the background, Bruce was holding his hands up in a frame, looking at the two of them.

“You’re sure you won’t go away?” Barbara muttered.

Dick broke into a blinding grin. “Not a chance, not ever,” he said, managing to convey the perfect amount of relief, with some flippance that was essential to James thrown in. Jason was impressed.

“Well, if I’m stuck with you, I guess we might as well talk,” Barbara conceded, sitting up slightly and shooting Dick a grin that was the right mix of fond and exasperated. Jason was doubly impressed.

“Yeah, damn straight you’re stuck with me,” Dick said. His face softened into something so tender, Jason wondered if it was actually an act. “I love you.”

* * *

“I love you too, Tim,” Conner said, his shoulders slumped. “You know I do. But what can I say? Look… maybe we do have problems. But why? I don’t know. These days I…”

They were standing on the beach, and Tim thought maybe if he concentrated on the sound of the crashing waves, he could keep from letting out the dam of emotions that was threatening to break. He waited for Conner to finish his sentence, but he was scared of what Conner might say.

Conner sighed, and broke eye contact. “Anyway, I’m leaving for my parents’ tomorrow. When you get there, please, darling, give me _my_ Tim back.”

Tim gave him a jerky nod, unable to voice the truth - that he didn’t know where Conner’s Tim had gone, and he wasn’t even sure he wanted that Tim back, or that he even existed.

* * *

Tim loved being at the Kents’. His favorite thing to do growing up had been to visit the Kent farm over the summer. They were warm people, unlike his parents, who cared, but were conspicuously absent when he was a kid. Conner had always had the loving family Tim had craved, with the possible exception of Conner’s older brother, Clark, who’d been upset when they’d adopted Conner.

Still, Thanksgiving at the Kents’ was picturesque and wonderful, something Tim looked forward to every year. Dinner was interrupted only by Tim’s and Conner’s phones going off with texts from Bart, their best friend, wishing them a Happy Thanksgiving.

After dinner was a different matter.

“Tim, I can’t believe you,” Conner snarled. They were on the porch, and it was late enough that everyone else was asleep. “We’re at Thanksgiving, and still all you can talk about is Jason!”

“They asked me for funny stories from work, Conner, what was I supposed to say?”

“You were supposed to say something that didn’t make it sound like you like Jason more than you love me!”

Tim reeled back. “Conner,” he whispered. “Of course I don’t--”

“You act like it,” Conner said, quieter now. He sighed. “Tim, I just--I miss feeling like I made you happy.”

Guilt washed over Tim. God, he was so stupid. He was a reprehensible idiot.

“Conner, of course you make me happy. I love you.”

“I love you too, Tim.” Conner looked tired. “Let’s just go to bed, darling, I’m tired of fighting.”

For once, it didn’t bother Tim that Conner had given up the fight.

“Yeah, let’s go to bed.”

But Tim couldn’t sleep; Conner’s face kept flashing through his mind. For the first time, the thought occurred to him that maybe their issues were _his_ fault. He was so caught up in how much fun he had with Jason that he didn’t stop to think about Conner. What sort of boyfriend did that make him?

He decided, then, that he would be better. Conner had flaws, but he was a good boyfriend, and Tim owed him more.

* * *

Jason spent Thanksgiving much like he’d spent it for many years now: with Roy and his family. Well, not his biological family. Jason had bonded with Roy because they both had the tendency to end up in families of strays that banded together. Roy had been all but adopted by Oliver Queen and his girlfriend - now wife - Dinah Lance, who had met Roy at some sort of science fair put on by the Queens (who were loaded). They’d bonded after he won the contest and they’d encouraged Roy his whole life.

The rest of the family included Ollie’s son Connor, Dinah’s adopted daughter Sin, Donna - Jason and Roy’s friend from high school - and sometimes Ollie’s best friend Hal and his girlfriend Carol. This year, Jason and Roy had even brought Kori; she had had no previous plans, what with her sister being back in Brazil.

Sometime after dinner, when they were all lounging in the living room, Jason felt his phone buzz. He pulled it out, wondering who would be calling him right now - after all, Tim was probably at his own Thanksgiving festivities, and anyone else who was likely to call was in the room with him.

So he was completely unprepared for the caller ID to say **Cass**.

Jason stared at the screen for a few moments, mind whirring. _Why is she--should I--_

Before he could make up his mind, the call went to his answering machine. Slowly, he put the phone back in his pocket.

“Who was that?” Roy asked.

Jason shook his head. “No one.”

He wouldn’t have known what to say, anyway.

 

Jason enjoyed having a few days off from work, but by the time Monday rolled around he was raring to go back. It was weird, he was usually content to just chill for longer, but he supposed he’d finally gotten used to the bustle of working on a set.

He hurried on set with his thermos of coffee and caught sight of its intended recipient. “Hey,” he said.

Tim turned to him with a pleased smile that faded suddenly. “Oh, hi Jason,” he said neutrally.

Jason’s grin faltered a little - he’d expected a _slightly_ warmer reception. But he chalked it up to one of Tim’s cranky moods. “Your coffee,” he said, holding out the thermos to Tim.

“I--actually, I’m good today,” Tim said. Was that Jason’s imagination or did Tim look a little guilty?

Jason blinked.”You’re--what? Timbo, you okay there? Are you actually turning down _coffee_? Is it the apocalypse already?”

“I’m fine,” Tim said curtly, but Jason saw his lips twitch.

“I… okay,” Jason said uncertainly. _What’s going on with him?_ “How was your Thanksgiving?”

The scant amusement Jason had seen dropped away. “It was wonderful,” Tim said, almost too emphatically. “I celebrated with Conner’s family, and they’re great.”

“Well, that’s cool. Mr. Perfect has the perfect family too?” Jason teased.

Tim’s eyes flashed, but his tone remained perfectly calm. “Yeah.”

Jason really wasn’t sure how to reply to that, so he switched topics.

“So, what are you having me do today?”

“You know, I think we’re good here,” Tim said. “You can go help Bruce.”

Jason knew a dismissal when he heard one, so he left to find Bruce. But Tim’s strange behavior was at the back of his mind for the rest of the day. He resolved to ask Tim about it on their ride home.

He never got that chance - when he looked for Tim that night to get a cab together, he found out that Tim had already left the set. The weird behavior seemed to be piling up. Jason decided that Tim was probably just swamped with work and issues with Mr. Fugly Shirts. Things would be better tomorrow.

But they weren’t better tomorrow, or the day after, or the day after that. Tim was slippery, and never seemed to be around wherever Jason was for too long. It was a far cry from all the time they’d spent together scant days before. Of course, they were busy, what with filming starting and everything, and Jason wasn’t expecting the exact same level of time with Tim, but--Jason wasn’t sure what he _was_ expecting, really. It wasn’t like Tim _owed_ him his time.

The fact was, Jason didn’t have much experience with these kinds of issues. He didn’t really have that many friends to begin with, and he was fine with this. The few people he did surround himself with were more than enough for him. But it did mean that he hadn’t really _dealt_ with anything like someone suddenly acting completely different overnight.

Tim was dealing with a lot, though. _And_ he was just a strange person. Jason decided that all of Tim’s weird behavior was probably some sort of coping mechanism for all the shit going on in his life.

The best thing he could do was probably to just let Tim do his thing. And be there in case Tim _did_ want to talk at some point. Hopefully it wouldn’t take too long, because set was boring without Tim to needle.

And so two weeks passed, with Jason getting antsier and antsier. There was no dearth of things to do, and he had Roy and Kori for company, so it wasn’t like he was moping on his own. In fact, he’d been spending a lot of time with Kori, surprised that he was enjoying it so much. He’d always known she was sweet and genuine, but he had realized over Thanksgiving that she was _fun_ , too. Jason found Kori tagging along to his and Roy’s afterwork bar-hop more often than not, and the girl could drink them both under the table while also kicking their asses at pool or really any other game. After the first time, Jason and Roy both vowed never to play poker with her again. She was also _very_ into sports - playing and watching. Jason had lost track of how many times she’d accidentally elbowed him while waving her arms around and yelling at a soccer match. Roy found it endearing, and Jason had to agree, it was just his bruises that were discontent.

But even with his newfound friendship with Kori, Jason couldn’t help but realize he’d gotten used to having Tim around. He just hoped that Tim would break out of this funk at some point, because if not, Jason wasn’t sure if he could keep letting Tim avoid him.

* * *

Tim might have been succeeding at avoiding Jason, but he was miserable for it. He’d gotten used to Jason’s near-constant presence in his life - a comforting, familiar warmth. It didn’t help that Jason had immediately _noticed_ that Tim was avoiding him and hadn’t even called him out on it.

So after his latest spat with Conner, Tim realized that however much he _should_ avoid Jason, he couldn’t bring himself to do it anymore.

Tim found Jason in his office, sitting with his laptop. Jason raised a questioning eyebrow at him, obviously confused as to why Tim had come to see him after practically hiding from him for the past few days. Tim felt a stab of guilt. But Jason didn’t say anything about it, and for that Tim was grateful.

“I’m used to us sharing a ride home,” Tim said with a weak laugh.

Jason gave Tim a commiserating smile. “You and Conner fought again, huh?”

Tim stared, confused. “How’d you know?”

Jason laughed, gesturing to Tim’s face. “It’s the glasses. I noticed you wear them whenever you’re sad. I swear, you walked straight out of a movie screen.”

Tim flushed. It was true, he did do that. Usually because whenever he felt this crappy, putting in his contacts was too much effort. But it was weird that Jason had noticed; it wasn’t really something Conner had ever picked up on. Tim decided it was a nice kind of weird.

“I don’t know, Jason…everything was fine till recently, but now I feel like…something’s missing,” Tim admitted.

“The magic?”

Tim’s eyes widened in surprise. Jason had hit the nail on the head. “Yeah. The magic is gone and…I don’t know where.”

Jason stared at him for a long moment. “So the magic is gone, huh?” he asked finally, before dramatically clutching his chest. “How _tragic_!”

Tim scowled. Apparently it had been too much to expect that Jason would take this seriously. “You know what, just forget it,” he snapped.

“No, listen,” said Jason. “There’s nothing _like_ magic, Tim. You need help.” He snapped his fingers. “Okay, c’mon. I know just the thing.” He dragged Tim out of the office and hailed a cab.

The driver was tuned in to some station - Tim realized it was actually the same agony aunt station that’d been playing the first time he and Jason took a cab together. Jason seemed to have this same realization, and they shared a grin.

“You need to keep the _spice_ in every relationship,” the Love Guru was saying.

“So, all these people need your help, huh?” Tim asked.

“Oh, yeah,” said Jason confidently. “And you too.”

Tim huffed. “Look, maybe you don’t believe me but I know what the magic is. I _had_ it.”

“Tim, I don’t think even _Gandalf_ believes in magic as much as you do,” Jason said, rolling his eyes heavenward.

Tim bit the inside of his cheek to repress a smile at the reference. “All I’m saying is, I was happy, and--”

“Obviously, now you’re not.”

“What do you mean?”

Jason sighed. “Okay, to be happy, you gotta be...a little reckless, carefree. But you have this need to _always_ be in control.”

Tim narrowed his eyes. “Are you calling me a control freak?”

Jason grinned. “You said it, not me. Look, you have this huge wall around you. You just gotta break that wall, you know? Break free!”

“How?”

“ _Sex_!" the Love Guru said at that moment.

Tim and Jason stared at each other for a moment, before bursting into helpless laughter.

 

Tim frowned down at the row of shots on the table he and Jason were sharing. “So, do you drink this _every_ day?”

Jason, who had been looking intently through Tim’s glasses like they might reveal the secrets of the universe, put them down and laughed. “Oh, man, no, usually I have beer. But today, we’re gonna have shots.”

“Why?”

Jason leaned in and gave him a conspiratorial grin. “Guaranteed drunkenness, of course.”

Tim sighed. _Of course._ “Look, don’t you think only one of us should be drinking?”

Jason’s eyes narrowed, and he pointed an accusing finger at Tim. “See, this is what I’m talking about! Let go of your control freak tendencies.”

“I’m not a control freak,” Tim muttered, but dropped the argument.

They clinked shot glasses and Tim downed the vodka, sputtering at the burn down his throat. Jason raised a smug eyebrow, clearly amused at Tim’s reaction. “Having a little trouble there, Timbers?”

Tim scowled. _Oh, it is_ so  _on._ He reached for the next shot glass.

“I love shots,” Jason declared dramatically somewhere after their fourth shot each. “From now on, I’m having shots every single day.”

Tim grinned. Everything felt really warm and...floaty. It was kind of nice. An annoyingly helpful part of his brain told him that he was drunk.

The rest of his brain told that part to shove it.

“So,” Jason said brightly. “What’s the problem again?”

Tim tried to think about this, but came up at a loss. “I forgot.”

“See?” Jason said, spreading his hands. “Shots!” He paused. “Okay, look, you shouldn’t do this… every day, you know, or you’ll turn into like, Bender. But it’s good to lose control sometimes.”

The thought of Tim turning into an alcoholic robot was actually kind of hilarious. Tim burst into giggles.

Jason grinned at him for a second before his expression became serious. “Okay, I thought I could let this slide, but fuck that. Tim, why’d you avoid me for so long?”

Tim chewed his lip, unsure how much to reveal. “Conner was--”

“ _Conner_?” Jason asked incredulously. “You were avoiding me because your _boyfriend_ asked? Isn’t that kinda shitty of him?”

“No, he didn’t ask,” Tim clarified quickly. “I just… he was feeling so _insecure_ and it was because of me spending so much time with you, so I figured…”

“You figured you’d ignore me for a bit and maybe Conner’s issues with us being friends would just disappear?” Jason finished for him, looking unimpressed.

Tim sighed. “Well, it sounds stupid when you put it like that.”

“Yeah, well, it _was_ stupid.”

Tim laughed a little. “Yeah, it was.”

“You know what?” Jason asked suddenly. “You need to dance. Do you wanna dance?”

“Wait, no,” Tim said, his laughter ending abruptly at that thought. Dancing and Tim went together about as well as…Jason and romance movies.

But it was too late. “Hey,” Jason said to the man sitting at the table across from them. “My friend thinks you’re _really_ hot, do you wanna dance with him?” The man gave Tim a considering glance.

“No!” Tim said, panicking. “No, he’s lying. _He_ thinks you’re hot!” He pointed accusingly at Jason. The poor guy they were addressing looked utterly confused, and apparently decided the best solution was to pretend that Jason and Tim did not exist.

“Tim!” Jason hissed. “What was that?”

Tim shrugged, grinning.

“Okay, fine,” Jason said. “Dance with _me_.”

“No way,” Tim said firmly.

“C’mon!”

“No, no, no.”

Jason let out a sigh. “Fine, you leave me no choice,” he said, before clambering on top of their table.

“ _Jason, what are you doing_?” Tim whispered furiously.

“Hey, everyone, excuse me,” Jason called out. The noise in the bar ground to a halt as everyone turned to hear what the guy standing on a table had to say.

“My boyfriend just said he’d marry me, but he won’t come out to the dance floor. Will you guys ask him to dance with me?”

There was a round of cheers and wolf-whistling. “Yeah, dance with him!” someone called. Tim sunk in his seat, covering his face with his hands.

Jason hopped off the table and sketched a ridiculous bow in Tim’s direction. “May I have this dance?” he asked, holding his hand out to Tim.

 _I’m so gonna regret this._ “Okay,” Tim said, taking his hand.

And they were terrible, really, tripping all over each others’ feet, drunk as hell and laughing ridiculously at every misstep. But at the end of the night, etched in Tim’s memory as clearly as one of his photos was Jason’s infectious grin as he twirled Tim, round and round till everything else blurred.

 

On the cab ride home, Tim stuck his head out the window, reveling in the sensation of cool wind on his face.

Jason snickered at him. “You’re like… a puppy.”

Tim scowled. “Shut up, it feels nice.”

Jason gave the window a considering glance before leaning over Tim and out the window, too. He waved at the car next to them. Tim copied the gesture.

For some reason, they both found this beyond hilarious, and proceeded to wave at every car and confused passerby they saw the rest of the way.

When they pulled up to Tim’s house, Jason stumbled out of the cab, and went around to open Tim’s door, as always. “See,” he said, as Tim got out, “I’m a very sweet, innocent boy.”

Everything was drawing to a close too quickly. Tim wanted--he wanted to stay in this night, this moment, forever. In the absence of that, though, he just wanted more time. “That’s it?” he asked, pouting at Jason.

Jason leaned forward, drumming his fingers on top of the cab. “Why, what else do you wanna do?” he asked in a suggestive voice.

Tim burst into giggles and smacked him on the back of the head. “Good _night_ , Jason.”

Jason grinned. “Yeah, yeah, good night.”

Tim was about to enter his house when a thought came to him. “Jason, wait,” he said, turning back. Jason was still standing by the cab, waiting for Tim to get into his house, like he always did.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Jason’s smile was soft. “Anytime, Tim.”

 

When Tim awoke the next morning, his first thought was, as it had been for many mornings now, _What’s happened to my perfect life_? But this time, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t wipe the smile from his face.

* * *

“I love the rain,” Tim said.

Jason quirked an eyebrow at him. Bruce was testing fake rain for one of the scenes, and he and Tim were watching the fun. “I’m shocked,” he said dryly.

“Shut up!” Tim said, laughing. Jason was about to respond when he noticed what Tim was holding - a selfie they’d taken at the bar. They were both grinning wildly, cheeks flushed from laughter and alcohol. “Hey, that’s a nice photo, can I keep it?” he asked, reaching for the picture.

Tim held the photo behind his back. “I will never give this to you,” he said.

Jason’s jaw dropped in indignation. “Fine!” he said, turning back to the gardens.

“How’s the rain look?” Roy called.

Jason frowned thoughtfully. “Looks good right now. We need someone to stand under it for reference, though.”

He really shouldn’t have been surprised when Tim shot him a small grin, before stepping out into the shower, arms outstretched, palms up. Jason watched as Tim turned in a slow circle, his grin widening as the water soaked him through, making his previously pristine clothes cling to him.

He looked so _happy_ , standing there with his eyes closed, getting ridiculously wet for no good reason. Jason’s mouth quirked up into a smile as he shook his head in amazement. It was remarkable that something as simple as rain - fake rain, for that matter - could make Tim so happy. He was pretty sure he’d never met anyone like Tim before, and just as sure that he’d never meet anyone like Tim again.

For some reason he couldn’t quite pinpoint, that thought made the smile slide off his face as he watched Tim bask in the rain.

Tim ran his hands over his face and through his hair before opening his eyes and meeting Jason’s. He motioned for Jason to come join him, but Jason shook his head, unwilling to drench himself. He smiled at Tim instead. Tim smiled too, rolling his eyes and putting his hands on his hips. Jason’s smile slipped off again, and he had the strange urge to take it back and go join Tim. But it was too late, because Tim was slowly making his way back to Jason.  

“Why don’t you break down your walls?” Tim asked when he reached Jason, his voice teasing but his gaze sincere.

“Wow,” Jason said, the word escaping him unintentionally. He gave himself a mental shake and pulled a smirk on. “You look...fugly.”

Tim let out a small, soft laugh, shoving Jason playfully.

“Conner won’t even recognize you,” Jason commented. Tim gave him a questioning look, but Jason didn’t know how to explain himself. All he knew was that he was inexplicably glad that Conner hadn’t been there to witness Tim stand contentedly under the shower of water.

* * *

“I thought about you every day, Tim,” Conner said, holding Tim’s hands in his. “Every day. Every _hour_. But it’s like you’re getting farther and farther away from me.”

Tim bit his lip, looking up at Conner, unsure if he should respond. He wasn’t even sure if he had a response.

“Why?” Conner asked sadly. “Am I doing something wrong?”

“Of course you aren’t,” Tim replied immediately. Of course Conner wasn’t doing anything wrong. Conner was the same boy Tim had loved since age seven. The same sweet soul. It was that Tim felt like _he_ wasn’t the same.

“Please, darling, give me one more chance,” Conner said, his big blue eyes heartbreakingly sincere. “Please, Tim, let’s try and make this work.”

But Tim had finally realized something. The problem was actually his and not Conner’s. All the flaws Conner had that so irked Tim as of late were things he was perfectly willing to accept or work through just a few months earlier. The real problem was that Tim knew he found himself happier around Mr. Wrong than he was with Mr. Right.

* * *

Tim had stopped avoiding him, yes, but Jason couldn’t help noticing that Tim wasn’t acting quite the same. He seemed quiet, subdued, and those were words Jason never thought he’d use to describe Tim. So, as they were finishing up the smaller sets - the various places James and Lily dropped by on occasion - Jason cornered Tim.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Tim sighed. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just tired.”

“Need more coffee?” Jason teased.

“I have some,” Tim replied, smiling slightly. “It’s just that Conner and I--”

“God, Tim, you’re always worrying about you and Conner. Is that even healthy? Sounds worrisome to me. Don’t you have other friends?”

Tim shrugged. “Well, yeah, there’s Bart, he’s my best friend. And Cassie, Raven, and Gar, though I haven’t seen them in a while.”

“Maybe you should consider, you know, _talking to them_?”

Tim shrugged again. “Look, Jason, I’m just...I have to focus on Conner right now.”

“Sounds like you’re always focusing on Conner,” Jason pointed out. Tim pulled a face like he disagreed, but didn’t say anything. “C’mon, Timbers, you gotta relax. You can’t work things out with Conner by sitting here and worrying! Go out and do something fun! Be spontaneous! Ooh, I know, get a tattoo!”

Tim choked, looking stricken. “A tattoo?! What?”

“Yeah, it’s fun. I have one.”

Tim’s eyes bugged out and Jason grinned at the sight.

“You have a _tattoo_?”

“Yeah, you wanna see?” Jason asked.

“Um, sure--WAIT. Wait, where is this tattoo? You’re not gonna drop trou in the middle of set, are you?”

Jason roared with laughter at Tim’s panic. “No, dumbass. I’m way too sober for that. It’s on my back.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed. “On your back? Where?”

“Lower back. It’s _kinda_ a tramp stamp.”

“A _tramp stamp_?” Tim looked torn between his judgmental nature and an urge to laugh. He looked back to normal for the first time in weeks. Jason just grinned. He’d long ago lost his shame over the tattoo. It had been mostly Roy’s fault anyway - he was the one who’d dared Jason to do it. Now it was a funny story and a good memory.

“Yeah, here.” Jason turned around and lifted the back of his shirt a few inches. He jumped when Tim’s fingers brushed over his skin, sending a jolt up his spine. “Fuck, your fingers are cold. Give a guy some warning,” he muttered.

“Why a bat?” Tim asked, ignoring him. “It is a bat, right?”

“Yeah, it’s a bat. It was Halloween, so it was between the bat and the pumpkin if I wanted the special 50% off deal.”

“You got a tattoo on _Halloween_?”

That one was definitely more judgmental than amused.

“Yeah, well, some of us don’t just stay home and hand out candy,” Jason said. Tim rolled his eyes.

“Sounds like maybe you should’ve. Then you wouldn’t have a _tramp stamp_.”

“Hey, this tramp stamp is part of who I _am_ now, Timbo.”

“Uh huh.” Jason could tell Tim was hiding amusement from the way his mouth twitched slightly. “Well,” Tim added. “Thanks for the suggestion, but that’s gonna be a hard pass.”

“Pity,” Jason drawled. “What about a piercing?”

Tim gave him the _you’re-an-idiot_ face and Jason chuckled, mentally patting himself on the back for successfully pulling Tim out of his funk.

* * *

“You know,” Jason said, “sometimes, colors look good too.” He handed a bouquet of flowers to Tim, who was adjusting the vase they were supposed to go in.

Tim’s eyes widened, and he ran his fingers over the red roses. “Red’s my favorite color,” he blurted out.

Jason gave him a confused look, obviously thinking about all the white flowers Conner brought Tim.

Tim laughed. “Conner gives me white flowers because he really loves white,” he explained.

“Oh,” Jason said, nodding. He looked at Tim for a long moment, an odd expression on his face. “You know,” he said finally, “I used to hate your smile.”

There was something about the way Jason said it; Tim felt his heartbeat pick up. “And now?”

Jason opened his mouth to respond, but then Bruce called out, “Jason!”

Jason scrambled off his seat, eyes wide. Tim stifled a laugh.

“What’s up?” Jason asked, as Bruce joined them.

Bruce narrowed his eyes at Jason. “What are you doing? Why aren’t you concentrating on your work?”

“I--no, this is for one of the scenes!” Jason said, gesturing at the flowers.

“Shh!” Bruce said, holding a finger to his lips. “Listen. The rain is too heavy. I need… exactly _four_ drops of rain to fall on Lily’s face.” He leaned in. “You got that? One… two… three… four.” He counted them off on his fingers and gave Jason a stern look before walking off.

Jason threw his hands in the air. “Can you _believe_ that?”

Tim dissolved into laughter. What Bruce was asking for _was_ pretty ridiculous.

Jason rolled his eyes. “Guess it matches the world’s cheesiest dialogue,” he said, holding up a copy of the script.

Tim rolled his eyes. “It’s not _that_ bad. Here.” He took the script from Jason’s hands and flipped through it, settling on one of Lily’s monologues.

“Everything was fine till yesterday,” he read. “I never imagined this could happen to me. How did I fall in love in a single moment?" He hadn’t dared to look up while reading the lines, but now he did, in time to see Jason’s expression flicker from something unreadable to a teasing smile.

“Wow,” Jason said. “Not bad. Anyone would cast you right this instant.”

Tim laughed, ducking his head. “So, do you believe in love stories now?” He peered up at Jason through his lashes.

Jason pursed his lips for a moment, as though he were considering it. He finally shook his head, a smirk on his lips, before walking off, probably to take care of the raindrops.

Tim stared after him, heart fluttering in his chest, and had the terrifying feeling he was spinning wildly out of control. Or maybe the whole universe was spinning, and Jason was the only thing that was stationary.

_I think I’m in love with you._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The five stages (of grief)... what is Tim mourning? Also shoutout to salty Clark Kent: Clark pls accept Conner into your fam. He deserves love. Another shoutout to Jason's tramp stamp, which is a much loved brainchild of ours. It has absolutely zero plot relevance. Last shoutout to all those "unreadable" looks. Tim, Jason, my boys, those looks aren't a mystery, you're just dumb.


End file.
